Despite my tyranny, subterfuge, and downright lying, the boys do know that I have a car radio channel tuned to one of those stations with a playlist of just three recent releases. In a moment of gracious condescension, I accede to their clamors to switch from NPR to this setting, knowing the trip is mercilessly short. We get an autotuned Britney croaking something that won't be regarded as her best work.
"Britney Spears?" remarks ten-year-old Secundus. "Is she still alive?"
It's coming for you, Bieber.