My eldest two have turned. Turned into rabid teenagers. Aoife regularly rolls her eyes and mutters whatever as she walks away from me. Tonight, as I was attempting to wrangle them into bed (having struggled all day because I've nearly lost my voice so I can't raise it when they wander or ignore) I resorted to a quiet, but I thought, Deadly: I'm turning the light out now, and if you don't lie down I'll shut the door as well.
Yeah, Euey says contemptuously, turn the light out. Then he looks up at me and promptly turns on his torch.
Holy Mother of God, what am I to do in 10 years?

Thank god there is still one who is a sweet, adorable little 'whatever you say Mum' cherub. He attempted to run away while I was dressing him after his bath tonight. He only got as far as the bedroom door before he turned to look questioningly, asking if it was okay to play this game. No, come back and get your jarmies on I tried, semi-sternly. The poor little mite was so torn between fun and obeying Mummy that he actually rocked on the spot as he tried to decide what to do. In the end I kindly let him off the hook with an okay, off you go then. Off he trotted happily, looking behind to make sure I was chasing him.