It was a council-driven affair, full of enthusiastic teachers and earnest professionals all preaching to the converted about the importance of being part of our own children's education.

I didn't really want to go.

I was worried it might be full of terrifying supermums, brandishing leaflets, urging me to join the kind of forums and focus groups that take up entire weekends and sap the will to live.

I was scared I might have to, you know, do stuff.

It's not too bad. We chat politely. There are speakers - some interesting, some less so. There is tea. It's all going well until one of the breezy guest speakers, who has been talking about the importance of play in our children's lives, asks us all to 'pop our heads under our tables' and retrieve the black bags sitting there.

My heart sinks.

"In the bag," she announces, cheerily ignoring the collective sigh which fills the room, "you'll find some junk. Your job is to work together and make something with it. Anything at all."

She falters slightly, as our blank faces gaze back.

"Whatever you like. You have 15 minutes and then we'll chat about it."

I was rubbish at Blue Peter stuff when I was wee.

I couldn't really see the point of recreating Sindy's mobile home from shoe boxes and sticky tape.

I hate yoghurt, and those stupid wee pots that slice your fingers when you try to build stuff with them.

From the looks on my fellow attendees' faces, I realise I am not alone.

"Shall we make a rocket?" one mum eventually suggests, tipping out our collection of cardboard, plastic bottles, wool and toilet roll tubes.

And yoghurt pots. Lots and lots of yoghurt pots.

"A train? A robot? A tower of - stuff?"

The robot wins, and we get to work creating a giant head with egg-carton eyes and a yoghurt pot nose, cereal box body and two cardboard tube legs, which it turns out are too thin to hold up the giant head.

It becomes fun and, after a quick look round the room, a bit competitive.

We give our robot a name (Roddy) and, with time left over, go for added plaudits by giving Roddy his own oxygen tank (we couldn't think of anything else to do with the empty Coke bottle) and a pet alien dog.

"What have you learned?" asks our guide, expectantly, as we sit back, satisfied Roddy wins hands down.

"Teamwork," pipes up one mum.

"The importance of play?" offers another.

Our table remains silent, until my neighbour whispers innocently: "That I forgot to get yoghurts at the shops today?"