Significant changes

There have been a number of significant break throughs on the parenting front. More due to an aging child population than any specific parental genius, but I'll take my small victories wherever I can.
I no longer have to do up anyone's seatbelt. (I did say small victories - small but significant shifts in the fabric of our lives). For years the back seat of the car has been a minefield of straps and buckles, with up to three different apparatus to lock, position, wrestle, and close. Then you had to negotiate/manhandle the actual child into it. Sometimes the thought of getting everyone in car seats was enough to put me off venturing into the world. For days on end. But, no more. Now I sit in the front and wait, blocking my ears to the arguments.
We also have graduated to a people mover vehicle.  That is nothing at all to do with parenting, but it does allow us to transport others outside of our family of 5, and introduce them to the joys of car conversations, games and arguments. Yesterday when we were bringing Grandad home, Little Miss opened the conversation.
'Grandad' she called out, 'Grandad!'
'Yes dear?'
'Grandad - you're old'.
"Grandad, you are old.'
Grandad, you are SUPER old.'
It was a one way conversation, but then, that is her speciality.
Another change is the loss of knowledge superiority. It's not a total wipe out, but in certain areas of knowledge they have passed me. This means our car games of 20 questions and I-spy have progressed to something of an intellectual challenge. We have categories of colours, real and visible, real but in my mind's eye, and full-on imaginary. Which is ok assuming I have a greater knowledge base than the kids, and we are on a really long car trip.
Big Brother -  "I spy with my little eye something that is green."
We were driving through the King Country at the time so I thought it was a shoo-in. Everything is a kaleidoscope of green, so I went through the list. Not grass, not tree, not leaf, and eventually I gave in. Apparently, Big brother the botanist had spotted a single specimen of muehlenbeckia, 40 kms back.
'Ohh' said Little Brother, knowledgeably, 'Good one'.
'I don't even know what that is!' I cried.
'It helps grow sand dunes'
'You should have gone to our school, Mum.'

Shouty Shouty

Oh how I wish I was one of those Mum's who serenely steers the ship of calmness through the choppy waters of family life. I would like to say I am the master of my inner shouty monster, but I would be lying.
Listening to the kids when they are playing nicely I feel happy to claim some credit via the role modelling I have done. However when it goes to custard, and things get all Shouty-Shouty, I am forced to admit I probably had a primary role in modelling that behaviour also.
Little Miss is a particularly faithful copier of my behaviour and perhaps that is it's taken me so long to notice my yelling.  The boys simply ignore me and I yell louder. Then they ignore me more and I yell louder. (when I put it like that the cycle becomes quite obvious).
But these days when I have to shout to be heard, Little Miss immediately shouts back at me, then turns to the boys and repeats the instruction over and over again.  She increases the effect by getting steadily louder and moving right up infront of them until she is yelling in their face. The boys yell back simply to be heard over the cacophony. It's like living in a cavern system with digital enhancement.
She also copies my tone of voice, or anything the boys say that gets a reaction.
'This dinner looks like snot' Big Brother says
One look will effectively shut him up, but Little Miss, the piranha of attention,  goes into repeat mode.
'Snot, Snot, I don't like snot. This looks like snot. I don't like eating snot. Why do I have to eat more snot than the boys. It's not fair!'
By that time I hit the decibel chart right up top.
 'It's NOT SNOT!'I yell, then add quietly attempting too late to be graceful ' It's frittata.'