I often get asked what the best thing about being a parent is. Actually, scratch that. I never get asked what the best thing about being a parent is. But I think I’ve worked out what it is.

It’s being able to win an argument.

You see, I’m one of those people who gets into an argument (or a ‘debate’, as they’re called nowadays) and thinks of a killer comeback about three hours later: that one line which would both prove your standpoint and reduce your opponent to a shrivelled wreck.

I’m also the person who says the killer comeback out loud three hours after the event, even though everyone’s forgotten all about the argument, and therefore I make myself look like a bit of a prat.

“Yeah, well your mum’s really fat. And so’s your face!”

“It’s over, Ben.”

But, when pitted against one of my children, I win every argument hands down. The best thing is I can sense that I’m about to win, and just as my son falls into the handy word trap which I so skilfully laid for him, I deliver the final blow, like a gladiator stabbing his enemy, but with less blood and swords and more smugness.

Isaac: But Daddy, I don’t want to eat my carrots! I’m full!

Me: Fine, you can leave your carrots, if you’re full.

Isaac: Yay!

Me: Right, well I’m going to get myself some chocolate cake for pudding.

Isaac: I want chocolate cake!

Me: I thought you said you were full?

Ker-bloosh. I win.