Brian is a video-game kid. Always has been, and I believe, always will be. We've always got to have the newest consoles, games and yes, cheats, available.
(I remember, four or five years ago, calling every Target and toy store within a 20-mile radius, every Tuesday morning, asking if they'd gotten the new PS2 in yet. Finally, one day, a toy store said that they did have some. When I walked into our place with that blue box behind me to surprise him, you'd swear that I was every year's Santa Claus rolled up into one.)
Last night though, the beloved PS2 died. Very sad. It's been giving him fits over the last few months--not registering games or movies, and just being very temperamental. It's really no wonder, after the life it's led. I mean, just Gran Turismo and the Maddens it's had to endure would kill any normal machine....
And once the the crippled electronic god had been declared mechanically dead, the whining started.
"We've got to go get a new one, nnnnoooooooowwwww."
I said, "Why don't we just watch TV tonight, and I'll stop and pick up a new one for you tomorrow on my way home from work?"
And that's when I had a glimpse into what would be my life in 10 or 15 years.
I saw a 32-year-old, 10-year-old child of mine, with eerily familiar brown eyes, turn and frown. "But, I want to play it nnnnoooowwww."
So there I was, staring at Brian, knowing he was completely serious, but trying not to laugh hysterically at what, I'm sure, was a scenario from my child-rearing future. So I caved. It was too cute not to. We put back on our street clothes, got in the car, went to Target, bought a new PS2, and had the thing plugged in and being played within an hour.
Happiness, packaged to order, in a brand-new video game console.
No comments:
Post a Comment