My buddy threw a garage sale last week, so, after a couple of errands that day, the Little One and I drove by to see how things were going. It was unseasonably cold and wet, a cold-toe very yucky day, but most of his items for sale had gone. Since it was nearing my daughter’s nap time and I had a lunch sandwich in the car for my wife, I allowed the Little One to play with my friend’s son, Tommy, for just a little bit while we chatted.
Fifteen or twenty minutes go by, and I realize I don’t see her anywhere. Uh oh. Silence or disappearance means trouble. Either she’s in it or causing it. My buddy catches my look and tells me they went inside and are playing video games. Video games? The Little One is four-and-half. I went in the house to investigate.
She and Tommy were playing Wii. Now just to let you know, my knowledge of computer games ended around the time of the original Quake and Duke Nukem, oh, about 1997 or so. And before that was a long dry spell going back to the early-80s and Atari games such as Space Invaders, Adventure, Pac-Man, etc. So, I’m not what you’d call a gamer.
But my heart broke as I saw my Little One helplessly try to manipulate the joystick to get her tank to turn and fire. It was spinning in circles and seemingly firing at random. Tommy, on the other hand, was busy lobbing exploding shells at her and any other piece of machinery that dared go near his tank. He won by something like seven thousand four hundred and thirty-three to zero. My friend came in, saw that his son was not being as charitable as parents like their children to be, so he popped on an easier game, a fishing simulation game, and sat down and helped the Little One grasp the idea that the controller in her hand was moving the fishing rod on the screen.
We drove home in silence, mostly because the dual liquid oxygen peripheral fuel storage boosters were firing in my cerebrum. The strains of the Rocky theme reverberated in my ears, or so I imagined, as I came up with a plan. Yes, a plan! Occasionally glancing at the rear view mirror, seeing my Little One all flushed and disconsolate, I realized I had to act, and act fast.
I told her I had a game at home we could train her on.
Then, we got home and I promptly forgot all about it.
This morning, five days later, I got the old “Daddy, can we do what you promised me?”
Oh no. “Uh, what was that?” I ask innocently enough.
“You know. Wii.”
Hmmm. Did I promise her I’d buy her a Wii? No – wait! It all flowed back to me. A couple of years ago my mother bought me and my brother each an Atari retro game console. It plugs into your TV set and you get to play sixteen Atari games from 25 years ago. There’s Adventure, Centipede, Asteroids, and a whole slew of others, but no Space Invaders, curiously. There’s Breakout, a next-generation Pong. I figure I can get my four-year-old some exposure playing that so at least she’ll be able to manipulate a controller. Coordinate what she’s sees on the screen with what she’s doing with her hands. Won’t that help with her developmental brain growth stuff? No?
Or am I just taking this too personal?
Or am I subconsciously searching for another form of electronic babysitting?
Oh, the soul searching involved in a day in the life of LE!
Fifteen or twenty minutes go by, and I realize I don’t see her anywhere. Uh oh. Silence or disappearance means trouble. Either she’s in it or causing it. My buddy catches my look and tells me they went inside and are playing video games. Video games? The Little One is four-and-half. I went in the house to investigate.
She and Tommy were playing Wii. Now just to let you know, my knowledge of computer games ended around the time of the original Quake and Duke Nukem, oh, about 1997 or so. And before that was a long dry spell going back to the early-80s and Atari games such as Space Invaders, Adventure, Pac-Man, etc. So, I’m not what you’d call a gamer.
But my heart broke as I saw my Little One helplessly try to manipulate the joystick to get her tank to turn and fire. It was spinning in circles and seemingly firing at random. Tommy, on the other hand, was busy lobbing exploding shells at her and any other piece of machinery that dared go near his tank. He won by something like seven thousand four hundred and thirty-three to zero. My friend came in, saw that his son was not being as charitable as parents like their children to be, so he popped on an easier game, a fishing simulation game, and sat down and helped the Little One grasp the idea that the controller in her hand was moving the fishing rod on the screen.
We drove home in silence, mostly because the dual liquid oxygen peripheral fuel storage boosters were firing in my cerebrum. The strains of the Rocky theme reverberated in my ears, or so I imagined, as I came up with a plan. Yes, a plan! Occasionally glancing at the rear view mirror, seeing my Little One all flushed and disconsolate, I realized I had to act, and act fast.
I told her I had a game at home we could train her on.
Then, we got home and I promptly forgot all about it.
This morning, five days later, I got the old “Daddy, can we do what you promised me?”
Oh no. “Uh, what was that?” I ask innocently enough.
“You know. Wii.”
Hmmm. Did I promise her I’d buy her a Wii? No – wait! It all flowed back to me. A couple of years ago my mother bought me and my brother each an Atari retro game console. It plugs into your TV set and you get to play sixteen Atari games from 25 years ago. There’s Adventure, Centipede, Asteroids, and a whole slew of others, but no Space Invaders, curiously. There’s Breakout, a next-generation Pong. I figure I can get my four-year-old some exposure playing that so at least she’ll be able to manipulate a controller. Coordinate what she’s sees on the screen with what she’s doing with her hands. Won’t that help with her developmental brain growth stuff? No?
Or am I just taking this too personal?
Or am I subconsciously searching for another form of electronic babysitting?
Oh, the soul searching involved in a day in the life of LE!
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