Boy and Girl are both alpha dogs. Their bone of contention is the downstairs TV remote. Everyday it’s “My turn. You had it yesterday!!” The channels flipping between SpongeBob and Star Wars; Dora the Explorer and iCarly. I miss the days when they both liked Thomas the Tank Engine.

So one day when I was not there, Boy cut a deal with Girl: She could control the remote on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, and he would control it on Thursday and Friday. Those are the most Boy-intensive days of TV watching, when new Star Wars episodes are supposed to appear. Into the fray stepped Bob, who pointed out that this was not a fair and equitable deal. So he declared Wednesday as Dad’s Day for Controlling the Remote. Also to be known as No TV Day. Yes, he vowed, on Wednesday, there shalt be no TV. There shalt be only music and reading.

So I called home late yesterday afternoon to ask how that was going. Both kids were upstairs watching the TV in our bedroom. In other words, High Mutiny.

Somehow he was able to coax them downstairs and outside, and that’s where I found them when I got home. Sure enough, there was no TV on downstairs. And it stayed that way until 8:15 p.m. — after Bob had read the first chapter of Indian Jones and Temple of Doom to us aloud.

I am a big fan of No TV Day and I hope we keep it up. There was only one drawback — Girl had a bad headache at bedtime. “It’s because,” she whined, “my eyes didn’t see enough SpongeBob today.”