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When your children are small, the most you have to worry about when they take up residence in your back seat, is that they sit quietly and are safe. Of course you go through the different phases of screeching little girls and Brittany wannabes who serenade you until the cows come home, regardless of their singing prowess. But you live through it and can happily tell them to shut-up if it gets too much for you while glaring at them via your rear view mirror.

But sometime around 15 and 16 when boys come into the picture the back seat and the strategically placed rear view mirror take on a whole new meaning.

About a week ago I agreed to transport my daughter’s new boyfriend home; she’s 15 going on 21, he’s 17. Undeterred by the prospect of the drive, the three of us loaded up the vehicle, me in the front – obviously as the driver – and they in the back.

Zooming around the curves of De Waal Drive, thoroughly enjoying the million twinkling lights of Cape Town and the harbour with it’s many sea fairing vessels, I was thrust back into reality by some snogging in the back seat. Now snogging, for those not in the know, is another word for tonsil-tickling-passionate-kissing, the type of which you don’t expect to see in your rear view mirror especially if your daughter is involved.

I wasn’t spying on her, not at all! I was merely doing as one does in the car, keeping my eye on the road for fast approaching vehicles etc etc. I vaguely remember saying to myself “oh they’re kissing” and turned my eyes back to the road. Instantly my brain took over shouting crazily, THEY’RE KISSING, or more to the point, THEY’RE SNOGGING IN YOUR CAR IN FULL VIEW OF EVERYBODY! If I hadn’t been so shocked I swear I would have slammed the brake pedal to the floor bringing the car to a violent halt, no doubt sending it into a 180 degree swerve that Michael Schumacher would have been proud of. I would have grabbed them both by the scruff of their necks and separated them swiftly with a Rottweiler or poised guillotine! The boyfriend would have got a disapproving lecture and a threat of death if he even thought about phoning my daughter again. I imagined myself snarling at him, reminding him that I was the Mother of the girl he was trying to devour with his lips and reminding him that she hadn’t long been out of nappies!

I’d like to have done that, but in reality I didn’t. Instead I drove along quietly, mouth agape, keeping one eye closed so I couldn’t see them in the back. A pretty pathetic response if you ask me. But you know I really didn’t know what was the right response, indeed what was expected of me as a parent. I asked a friend who said she would have given them the old “hey, what you doing back there, pack it in” routine. That seemed harsh and I squirmed at the thought. Instead I started to ask myself, do you want to embarrass your daughter, or am I supposed to sit there embarrassed all by myself?

I likened it to those occasions when as a pubescent I sat with my parents watching the odd snogging and fake sex moment on the TV. I would sit there cringing and they would…well I don’t know what they felt; I can only imagine a certain amount of discomfort. All I know is that I couldn’t wait to get out of the room before I started blushing.

I knew I had to say something, but how and when. I pondered over it long and hard, I knew I didn’t want to be a miserable old mother whose middle name was Cruella De Ville, but still I needed to let her know that I wasn’t happy with her actions/snogging.

After all I had to be big enough to face the facts that if my daughter has a boyfriend then she must be kissing, and yes snogging. But likewise she had to know I’d be happier if she did elsewhere, like somewhere I wouldn’t have to participate as a voyeur. The opportunity arose unexpectedly in the car can you believe; only this time she was with a girlfriend in the back and I had back up with a friend of my own. Yes she was embarrassed but not in a bad way, and yes we all had a good old giggle about it and the fact that I’d caught them in the act so to speak.

I like to think I got the message across loud and clear, NO SNOGGING IN MY BACK SEAT, do it elsewhere. And to be honest if humour was the route to take as opposed to serious confrontation, then I say let there be humour, let their be peace in the house.