Despite my attempts as a conscientious parent to do battle with the TV for control of my children's lives, I often concede defeat. Such was the case recently when my wife was out for the evening and dad was left in charge. And so, after a nourishing round of Kraft dinner, my two sons turned to me and wondered aloud what other treats dad had in store for them.

It was Friday night after a long week at work, so when swimming was suggested, all I could think of was the arduous and possibly futile search for clean towels (the odds that three males will locate three towels without a female present to say, 'They're right in front of you. Why didn't you check the drawer?' aren't good).