In the short term, I know our sons will come to resent our refusal to become citizens of Cyberia. I know they will accuse us of making their lives a misery and of cruelly denying them what their peers possess in abundance. But right now, as I sit writing to the distant sounds of laughter and song, or the Lego box as it crashes to the floor, or my eldest reading Roald Dahl to his little brother, I instinctively feel justified. At least they will have some experience of true love, of lasting friendship and of those riches which only imagination can supply.

In the short term, I know our sons will come to resent our refusal to become citizens of Cyberia. I know they will accuse us of making their lives a misery and of cruelly denying them what their peers possess in abundance. But right now, as I sit writing to the distant sounds of laughter and song, or the Lego box as it crashes to the floor, or my eldest reading Roald Dahl to his little brother, I instinctively feel justified. At least they will have some experience of true love, of lasting friendship and of those riches which only imagination can supply.