We’re all familiar with the concept of “brunch”. In fact many of our eateries here in Oxford thrive on it.

But the idea of a similar meal occasion halfway between lunch and tea has never caught on. I have certainly never heard of a “lea”, or for the upmarket, a “linner”.

The idea of eating one’s main meal of the day whilst the majority of the populace are still in the office may seem a strange one, but it has become the norm for me.

Back in the years BC (Before Children) I would arrive home from work about 6pm and cook a leisurely dinner for myself and my girlfriend. We would eat at the relatively civilised hour of 7pm. Today that seems an outrageously late time to be eating, though in polite society it would probably be considered unfashionably early.

Once the kids came along, initially nothing much changed. From formula to weaning, there weren’t many meal occasions to be shared.

We certainly did not all sit around together tucking into jars of organic baby food. But as they progressed to proper food we began eating together as a family.

This has led to us eating earlier and earlier. It was not such an issue during the summer. Then, we came home and played in the garden for a while before starting on tea. But now the cold and dark nights are here I find myself cooking soon after we get in from school when the boys are always hungry. By 4.15pm we are sat around the table tucking in.

Many parents, I am sure, would cook for the kids first and themselves later but that’s a duplication of effort and I like us to all eat together. It’s a time when we can talk without distractions about topics such as “what happened at school today?”

We have some work to do still on the finer points of culinary etiquette. The preferred item of cutlery of both the boys remains their fingers. I have attempted to explain that in another decade or two they might want to take a young lady out to dinner and that picking up great chunks of potato by hand and shovelling them in with gravy dribbling everywhere might not be the most romantic of gestures. To them though, this is a far off and unimaginable future.

Because we eat so early, by mid-evening when they are tucked up in bed, I’m hungry again so the fridge raiding begins. It’s definitely not good for the waistline.

Every now and then we get a babysitter and Claire and I book a table at a restaurant in Oxford. But my body gets confused by this.

My stomach suffers some sort of parenting jet lag, leaving me ravenous by the time we arrive for our 8pm booking. Any little trays of olives or bread rolls don’t last long, that’s for sure. But as the boys get older I expect civilised eating times to gradually return. And who knows, I might even persuade them to pick up their cutlery.

Jason Ayres is the Bicester based author of two books on parenting. You can follow him on Twitter @AusterityDad.