What do you do when it turns out your children are immune to being bollocked?
We’re in the car; it’s a long car journey.
By long I mean seven hours.
It was meant to be four but I nodded off at a crucial map reading stage and missed the turning so we ended up doing most of the journey on windy B roads.
Anyway, the children are starting to bicker.
I should also add that we’ve just spent the weekend with friends in a cottage for a 40th so add lack of sleep and brain-crunching hangover to the tolerance levels.
So the kids are winding each other up.
And I’ve asked them to stop, which they don’t.
They get louder, and I ask them again to pack it in, this time adding that there won’t be any telly when we get home if they don’t.
And they don’t.
They get louder, and louder.
A two year old’s scream is like nails down a blackboard when you’re nursing a red wine hangover.
And now I raise my voice, I’m cross and I tell them so.
To which they copy me.
They actually imitate me.
I do sound ridiculous when a 2 and 5 year old are doing an impression of me. I’m proper mardy and saying things I remember my mum used to say to me, about how disappointed I am, blah blah blah.
It’s good to know that the world has changed, technology has advanced beyond understanding and world politics are virtually unrecognisable, but the good old-fashioned fundamentals of bollockings haven’t moved on in the last 30 years.
Anyway, I persist down this route to no avail.
And I’m thinking, where do you go from here? What happens when your threats are met with laughter and mimicry?
I’m losing my authority and I didn’t see it coming.
So I’m going to have to find other ways to get my own back.
Like making them listen to the entire Archers omnibus instead of their CD of nursery rhymes.
Inflicting the Ambridge Christmas panto preparations on them for best part of two hours.
That’ll teach them for taking the piss out of me!