Out of the Mouths of Babes

My children have decided they need to take me in hand. I say this as though this is a new phenomenon, but in fact they have done this many times before, whether it is to give me advice on my dress sense, my moodiness, my terrible of habit of swearing like a trouper (especially whilst driving), or, more recently, my sense of humour (incredibly embarrassing and very unfunny, apparently).
Today they have launched a new line of attack, and this time it focuses on my career.
"I think you should re-do your website," says Small Boy, banging his school bag down on the table decisively. "Me and William have been looking at really cool websites today and learning about how to make them ourselves. And yours is not really cool enough."
He is absolutely right, of course: updating my website has been on my To Do List for at least a year.
"I have already made a start on making my own website, so you could have a look at it for ideas if you like," Small Boy says casually.
"Your own website?" I say. "And what would you be needing with a website?" No sooner have the words left my mouth than warning bells sound in my befuddled mind. "Oh, wait a minute - this isn't for some hare-brained money-making exercise, is it? You're not planning to sell the chickens' eggs, are you? Or the cats? Actually, I wouldn't mind if you sold Psycho Cat, although I don't think you'd get much money for her--"
"NOOOO!" Small Boy exclaims, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Not anything stupid like that. I've made a website about lemurs." He spreads his hands as though stating the obvious to an extremely dim-witted individual.
"Lemurs," I repeat. "And what have you, personally, got to do with lemurs?"
"I like them," he says, still giving me that you-are-an-A-Grade-loony look.
"Right. So why a website? I thought people made websites to promote things or sell things or--"
"I AM promoting things. I'm promoting lemurs," says Small Boy. "And I'm going to do a link to your website too, so you'd better hurry up and make it look better, otherwise it'll be embarrassing."
"OK," I say, feeling distinctly brow-beaten.
"Talking of your work," says Daughter, who has been listening to all this with faint amusement, "I have been reading the manuscript of that book you were writing over Christmas."
"Oh, that's nice. Thank you, darling!" I say. It has been years since Daughter has deigned to show any interest in any of my books, being far too old and sophisticated these days for the childish stuff I write.
"I think it's coming along nicely," she says graciously. "But I think you need to make it more descriptive. Our English teachers always say we should set the scene. I don't think you've done enough of that. And I think you should think about whether this is a one-off title or whether it's going to be part of a series, as that will affect how you develop the relationship between the main characters."
"Right. Well. Thanks. You've certainly both given me a lot to think about," I say, reaching for my notepad.

Blimey, who needs an agent when you have kids?

Here, for those of you who are interested in lemurs, is the link to Small Boy's website:
http://www.wix.com/thomasdjwilson/elf
(The graphics are so lovely that I am ashamed to give you the link for mine...)