 If you are a non-vidiot, like me, you will never understand the
fascination of interacting with imaginary characters on a TV screen.
My husband became infected by the video game virus as early as Pong.
Remember Pong? Picture a tiny white square bouncing around a black
screen and two white lines that you could manipulate to simulate a
pingpong game. That was exciting (you should hear sarcasm here).
We married in 1981 and my first child was born in 1983. My
husband bought his first computer, a TI-99, while I was still in the
hospital, and I have been fighting the video virus ever since.
Everyone is so worried about the H1N1 virus, but 99 percent of
the time, H1N1 eventually goes away if you get it. Not so with the
video virus. Once you have it, it's chronic.
I know how to safeguard my family from H1N1: vaccination, hand
washings and lots of Lysol. A vaccination is simply taking a tiny
bit of the disease and injecting it into the body. However, once the
insidious video virus has entered the body, there is nothing in this
world that can eliminate it. It's like Lays potato chips -- you
can't eat just one.
Parents already know that getting kids to wash their hands of
video games is like trying to nail jello to a tree. I, on the other
hand, have washed my hands of video games many times, but they keep
coming back like a rogue nose hair. They come back in the form of a
birthday present from a well-meaning relative or in the form of a
download from a friend. Even the school has "educational games" for
them to play on the Internet.
I've tried many times to take the games away, so they'll know
what sunshine feels like when they grow up. However, my husband
always brings them back. As far as he is concerned, it is cruel and
unusual punishment to deprive a kid of video games, and I am a
monster the children must be protected from.
I complain that they never go outside and run around like kids
should. My husband gets them a Wii so they can "exercise."
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 I limit their video game time to the weekends. There is constant
squabbling.
"He had 10 more minutes than I did!" one cries.
"She won't let me play that game just because I erased her
character last time!" another wails.
"I didn't get as much time as everyone else because you made us
go to the playground," my youngest whines accusingly.
My husband thinks the obvious solution is to get them their own
computers with identical games on each, and if all of the children
had a hand-held video game, they could take it along when I forced
them to leave the house.
I think we should toss the ones we have in the nearest body of
very deep water, and so help me, I am not afraid to do it. What
forces me to reconsider is this: I am not at all sure that my
husband wouldn't mortgage everything we own to replace them.
It's too late for my older sons. They have been assimilated. If
their lives depended on it, they could not go a full month without
playing a video game. The withdrawal symptoms would be shattering if
they ever tried.
My 13-year-old was told that if any of his grades dropped below
85, he would lose video game privileges. This has always been a
rule. His report card was abysmal. I laid down the law and now there
is a dark cloud floating over my house. It's as if someone just
died.
My older sons think I'm heartless; my husband thinks I need
therapy. They all think that I believe video games were the cause of
my son's bad grades. I don't. He has nothing and no one to blame but
himself. The truth is, video gaming is simply the only privilege he
cares about losing. He has another chance to regain it on the next
report card in nine weeks.
In the meantime, I get nine weeks of peace.
Is it wrong to hope that, nine weeks from now, at least one of
his grades falls below an 85?... Maybe I do need therapy.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist,
author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info. |
