I’m afraid we’ve created a video game monster.
Sure, I’ve played my fair share of video games and I still enjoy a good Wii game or old school board or two of Super Mario Bros. but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t four years old when it all started for me.
With Nia, we waited until she was six to have video games. She got a Nintendo DS with a few games that leaned more toward educational than toward gold coins and flying fire balls. I wanted to do the same for Nate. Wait until he’s six. What I didn’t consider is that he has the older sibling who has the games and then he also found my Nintendo Advance from back in the day (um, ok maybe I was in my 20’s).
Now, he wants to play the Advance, her DS or the Wii every non-baseball playing chance he gets. I’ve set limits on the amount he can play each day but I still worry. I even give him little hope-you’re-not-a-video-game-zombie tests. I hold up my hands to him, “Nate, how many I’m I holding up.” “Five,” he says without counting. “Nate, how do you spell love?” “L-O-V-E,” he replies without hitting pause.
Just want to make sure those brain cells are still in top shape.
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