"Would anyone like a bit of lettuce?" I say, making sandwiches.
"Maybe later," says my daughter kindly.
Our timetables don't match at all. One Sunday, I was woken by a neighbour's son chatting to a friend at the front gate. He was bathed in early morning sunshine. Amazing, I thought. Where's he off to at this time of day? It turns out he was just getting back from a night out.
At weekends, it's amazing you see each other at all. "Are you in for supper?" I say to my son.
He screws up his eyes. "What time will it be?"
He's confused. He's only just had breakfast.
It's as if you're operating in parallel universes. You think of a crowd as the checkout queue in Sainsbury's. They think of a crowd as 500 likes on Facebook. You're still using a landline. They use YouTube and WhatsApp.
So I was completely astonished when I discovered the whole family was on Twitter.
"Although I don't really use it," says my daughter. "None of my friends are on it."
I'm not sure friends have much to do with it. For nearly a year, my husband didn't send a single tweet. But he still ended up with a small band of loyal followers.
'"Maybe I should think up a new saying," I say excitedly. "'The family that tweets together...'" But no one's listening. A bit like Twitter, really.