Last week, Rocco hid behind the television and pissed straight into his blue Sesame Street cup. He walked into the kitchen and offered it to his brother.
"Want some juice, Max?"
Max held his hand out to take it, because ten minutes ago, there was no juice in the house. But now, there was! Recoiled as soon he twigged.
"ROCCO YOU ARE DISGUSTING!"
This morning, his preschool teacher gave me this:
A 1.25 litre bottle of Pepsi. Rocco took it out of his bag at lunchtime, plonked it onto the table next to his sandwich.
"My mum said I could."
Much later he begrudgingly admitted stealing it from the fridge that morning when I wasn't looking.
The child is four.
I'm screwed, aren't I? Seriously, so utterly screwed.
Can anybody relate? I'm frightened, Aunty Em.