I have never really been a fan of video games, but mainly that's because growing up, I didn't understand the draw of staying inside when it was a beautiful day. That mild dislike turned to loathing in high school where I spent countless of hours on my boyfriend's couch waiting for him to "just complete the stage" before we could head out. I would have gladly stayed in to watch football or soccer without a problem, but video games? No thanks.
As you can imagine, I was pretty hesitant to let Parker get a game system. I had visions of my normally outgoing child suddenly locking himself in his room for long hours and dressing in black. His suntanned face would be traded for a vampire-esque paleness complete with dark circles and an eye twitch. He would become withdrawn and anti-social and we would have to have an intervention. Or an exorcism. Or something else dire and overly dramatic.
Okay, so that was a bit of an exaggeration, but you catch my drift. And okay, the game system in question was the Leap Frog, which is allegedly designed for learning, but I was (and am) a skeptic about how useful it actually it. However, I finally conceded at Christmas when the grandparents bought him the system along with a handful of games. And so he started to play it. And it was fine for a while. And then I walked in and saw this. Please view exhibit A above.
Oh dear. This is not good. What on earth is going on in the picture above? Suddenly my visions of eye twitches and exorcism didn't seem quite so dramatic. In case you needed further proof of imminent doom, here's a comparison.
Playing nicely with arts and crafts (or arts and craps as Parker calls it)...
...and playing with video games...
And what's this?!?
My normally sweet and social child is showing signs of withdrawal and dare I say it, brain rotting. This is serious folks. Now, please excuse me while I wrestle the vile machine away from Parker and chuck it out the window. Then I'm calling a priest. Please send holy water.
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