Why I love the Archbishop of Canterbury

I love the Archbishop of Canterbury. Not for religious reasons, but because his notions on how to be a good mother tally so exactly with mine.

Pushy parenting, he recently announced, is positively damaging to children. After school drama? Appalling. Early morning swimming? Scar-forming. And as for those badges of success - trophies, medals and certificates - why, they're the marks of the devil himself. Parents, he thunders, are suffocating their little darlings with the weight of their own ambitions for them.

Right on, Rowan! To a parent like me, this is all manna from heaven and wonderfully liberating. Until now my approach - gather up the kids, get them home and stick them in front of the television, while I wipe off the top layer of mould from any remaining vegetables and try to work out how to cook them, assisted by a large glass of wine - has labelled me as a lazy cow with no interest in my children's development.

No longer. Now my laisse faire approach not only goes uncondemned, but officially qualifies as a parenting philosophy, no less, and one endorsed by the Church of England. And that's more than you can say for any of the standard child rearing manuals.

I’m proud to be the mother of children so wedded to the TV that they go to bed cuddling the remote control, and whose idea of vigorous exercise is to lift their feet while I vacuum up the crumbs from their carcinogen and cholesterol-loaded snacks.

My children are real children, happy children, children who can fully express themselves by lumping around at home and shouting at each other. Phew!

I have to admit that in my naïve and enthusiastic parenting days, I had a go - well, several goes, actually - at this pushy parent lark. But then I discovered the terrible truth. Success depends on having a child who is a) keen and b) talented.

One of my friends has a daughter so musically advanced that she's had to break up groups of rioting teacher vying for the chance to take her on, while the son of another friend has done so well at Kumon maths that he's been propelled into a group so advanced that he's probably already being targeted by some dodgy state anxious to recruit fresh blood into its nuclear weapons programme.

My children, though, are either average or not. Usually, thanks to heirloom quality DNA, lovingly passed down through the generations though occasionally dropped ('Butterfingers!'), not.

In the dim and distant past they've given up tennis, because they couldn't serve; football (couldn't kick) Beavers (couldn't sit still) and piano (I couldn't park), and that's just for starters. We've also dispensed with judo (too rough), violin (too discordant), Rainbows (too jolly), gymnastics (too competitive), and trampolining (too scary).

In addition to saving time and money, my strategy means we're the most popular family in the neighbourhood, what with our tireless round-the-clock efforts to remain average, thus making the brilliant achievements of other families shine the brighter in comparison.

The only drawback to my approach is the social aspect. While not a day goes by without exchanging a word with friends and neighbours, that word is almost always 'goodbye' as they speed past ourhouse on the way to the latest extra-curricular emergency. In fact, the only way to guarantee a decent conversation is by lying in the middle of the road in the hope that one of the mums on a mission stops to have a chat before running you over (or after, depending on how urgently that trombone lessonis calling).

Now, though, I can rest assured that while they have the wide open road, I'm the proud possessor of the moral high ground. And soon, no doubt, the Archbishop's words will be endorsed by reports by leading psychologists with advanced qualifications in tut-tutting. They’ll appear in their head-shaking droves to denounce the appalling men and women who are inflicting such outrageous levels of suffering on their innocent offspring.

There’s only one problem. Parenting experts don’t all agree. And I know full well that in a few months’ time, there’ll be a new report out. It will say that children bundled from activity to activity, after school and at weekends, are not only brighter than their peers but also happier and better adjusted.

In the meantime, I’m going milk the Archbishop’s comments for all they’re worth. After all, when your parenting skills are endorsed by God Himself – or, at least, one of His senior representatives on earth, you might just as well enjoy it.