I'm in a metallic airlock with glowing walls and a strange man in a cape prowling in the corner. I run to and fro, swishing my laser beam, battling evil and doing the occasional backflip. I have no idea why. "Mum!" wails 11-year-old Luke, alias Han Solo. "You're not even trying!"

Believe me, I am. This is day five of my crash course in console games and I'm doing my best to get my head round these infernal things, but failing miserably. We're well into the holidays and instead of arguing with my sons about how much screen time they are allowed, I set them a challenge. Could they, in one week, teach me to play every game they've got and, more significantly, convince me of their merits? They leap at the chance.

And I kick myself. What am I doing? I already have a list of jobs for this week long enough to paper the stairwell and, frankly, I'm not interested in screen games. If I have free time, I'd far rather read, walk or play music. And I'd rather they did, too.

There's the rub. My boys love these games and I just don't get it. And because of that, it has become a frequent source of arguments, with them always pushing for more time, while their father and I push for less. I realise I am negative and dismissive about something that brings them a lot of pleasure, and that since I've never really tried the games, my judgments are hardly fair. I want to build a bridge, to get into their territory; understand the culture, learn the language. Once there, I will have a better basis for assessing the quality of the games and might even see the attraction. "Be careful, guys," I warn. "You could end up fighting Mum for the controls."

Well, at the first session on Monday there is fighting, but not with me. Luke and Sam, 13, start our bonding experience by rowing about which game to teach me first. That is one of the reasons I don't like the games: they cause conflict. If it's not us battling the boys over time limits, it's them at loggerheads over whose turn it is, who switched off before saving the score and who has the coolest wheels on their racing car. We never have such bust-ups over library books.

So perhaps the up-side is the countless opportunities for learning conflict resolution. We settle on Gran Turismo 3 on PlayStation 2 and the boys choose me a nifty Dodge Viper in red and green. (Translation: race track, fast car.) I'm good at the speed but to heck with the steering. "You don't want to hit the wall," Sam says. "I'm not doing it on purpose," I mutter, taking out a fly-over as I career around the bend.

That's my second issue. Are these games encouraging dangerous behaviour? I hope my sons will never drive this fast or believe they can crash into another motorist – as I did in Need for Speed Most Wanted – and then drive off. Intact. I know my boys don't believe that, but I also know studies show a correlation between racing games and reckless driving, especially in males.

The amount of time spent playing and the nature of the games has an influence, so it does matter, but there are far more significant factors affecting driving behaviour. And maybe, in moderation, the games can provide a safe way of being crazy. Which is why I find it so fun. Yes, even me, mild-mannered, middle-class, mother of two. It's because I don't normally behave this way. I can't. This is not reality, it's fantasy. So get out of my way, you losers, I'm coming through!

Tuesday, Sam sets me up with Fifa on the Wii. I'm Chelsea, he's Roma, and I quickly master how to pass the ball. "They are a passing team," the commentator says, and I glow. Shame about the scoring, though, and that off-side nonsense. I realise it probably helps if you know how to play football, which Sam does. So why doesn't he just get out there and kick a real ball?

That's another fear about gaming, isn't it? That kids don't get enough fresh air and exercise; that they're hunched up in front of screens instead of having a social life. We do know a boy like that, who doesn't join clubs or teams, has withdrawn socially and only wants to play on his consoles. But I think the gaming is a symptom of a deeper problem, not the cause of it. The reality is that my boys play a lot of sport, have a great bunch of pals and spend hours outdoors. That's partly because we kick them out, but maybe I can give a little on the screen time.

Come Wednesday, I'm a girl called Daisy in a car with mushroom wheels. This is Mario Kart 7 on Luke's Nintendo 3DS. It's all psychedelic colours, high-pitched whooping and irritating music. I'm grumpy and tired, but even driving off a cliff four times doesn't end it. OK, so I'm not going to enjoy all their games, but I can object to the content. For me, this is a concern, especially as they get older. I am disturbed by the violence in many popular games and, so far, we have set firm rules: no realistic blood and guts.

However, it's hard to be clear about the line or the issue. When I look back to my childhood, I remember lots of pretend violence. Whether we were superheroes or cops and robbers, we were regularly, and cheerfully, shooting each other. It goes back to the fun of doing something in play that you cannot, and would not, do in real life.

That's OK if we're flying to Saturn or being a wizard, but violence? What's so fun about that? I think it's the power: vanquishing the enemy, conquering. It's also the thrill of the chase, the outwitting, the danger. Then there's the speed and marksmanship. When Luke and I enter the Jedi Battle (Lego Star Wars for Wii) his advice is simple: "Just shoot everyone who shoots you!" It sounds like US foreign policy, but the problem is, in this crowded arena, I haven't the foggiest idea who I am.

No matter, I shoot like mad until I announce I've run out of bullets. "You haven't got bullets," he sighs. "You've got a light sabre."

So a bit of fantasy fighting might be OK, but what I cannot accept is pleasure derived from suffering and that is what some games seem to encourage. Our boys' friends once described their game acts of violence in such ecstatic terms that my husband stopped them.

The week's up and although I won't be muscling in on the consoles, I am in a different place. I surprised myself by how much I enjoyed some of the games, especially the motor racing (as I'm not into cars). And I surprised the boys by winning a race. It was good for all of us to flip roles and let them teach me and I hope it will help as we negotiate the "game plan" for the winter. I've discovered it's not quite so bad on the dark side.