“I have a surprise!” I told the kids mysteriously as I dug out our dusty Wii console and basket of games. “I’m going to let you play … a video game!”
They squealed happily. They’d only ever played once or twice, about a year ago, and I got a terrible headache from the Rock Band drumset and banished it to a tall shelf in the utility room. They forgot video games existed and I was fine with that.
But desperate times call for Koopas and Goombas (or “turtles” and “mushroom men,” as I call them).
At first, I couldn’t even be in the same room while they played because they were terrible. Absolutely terrible, and that’s coming from someone who has been pretty awful at video games for more than 25 years now. They couldn’t press two buttons at once. They ran straight into bad guys and died. They ran straight into ditches and died. It was like watching my mom try to play (sorry, Mom).