Having turned four, The B appears to think he qualifies for a promotion in the household pecking order.He is no longer just The B, oh no.
These days, he has become The B, Familial Enforcer.
Earlier this morning, having finished her breakfast first, The G got down from the table to do a little playing.
"I'll keep an eye on her, make sure she's not being naughty," The B said to me, giving a knowing wink.
I might have imagined the wink, but you get the idea.
Later on, I called out to The G.
"What?" she replied, her newest, favourite phrase.
Once again, The Enforcer sprang into action.
"Don't say 'what', that's rude," came the inevitable admonishment.
Think Vinnie Jones in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. Just smaller and less menacing, his voice higher pitched.
It'd be fine if he reserved it for the house, but he has started telling off complete strangers during our frequent outings.
"You're being naughty," he said to one misbehaving peer during a recent excursion to soft play, pointing an accusing finger at the culprit.
It gets worse.
Earlier, waiting to cross the road, a man overtook us and negotiated a safe passage through the oncoming cars.
"You didn't look," The B shouted after him.
The Enforcer strikes again.