The Rubicons of Parenthood.

No one tells you this, but you don't become a parent overnight. It happens in stages. Terrible incremental stages, rubicons you cross and across which you can never return. These stages are marked by the things you say – things that once said cannot be unsaid, the selfsame things you used to hate your parents for saying.

These phrases include:

You can't have any dessert until you finish your vegetables.

Well, where did you last see [insert name of lost object]?

Pick it up yourself. We’re not your servants. (This will subsequently evolve into ‘This house is not a hotel.')

I’m sure there are a lot more, but I haven’t said them yet. Make no mistake, however: I will. It’s inevitable.

Perhaps the worst part of all this is that it’s only when you become a parent that you realise, with a sinking awareness of what an awful brat you were, that there is a mutuality to saying this stuff; you only talk this way because you’re trying to find the most effective way of communicating with something which is basically an idiot. Don’t take this the wrong way, I love my kids, but seriously, right now: idiots. I don’t know, perhaps the real problem is that parents keep using these dumbed-down phrases long after their usefulness has expired. Along with forgetting how to dance and telling crap jokes, this is how you become the quintessence of future embarrassment that will your force your children to pretend they don’t know you in public and, ultimately, leave home and forget your birthday. And quite right, too.