It is 1996 and I'm a young mum with two small sons. They're two demanding boys, with big ideas and fertile minds. They want to play, but it's time to prepare dinner for the family. The oldest boy turns back to set up electrical circuits with batteries and LED light bulbs, whilst the smaller son, Master Three, gathers soft toys, from his prodigious collection, that would be the envy of any Sesame Street cast member and sets up a puppet show singing tunes of Thomas the Tank Engine. I turn back to the stove. Besides the two boys and the…