And Away Wii Go...

One need only flip on the television to discover the nation’s rampant obsession with sparkly clean, brand spankin’ new, “just on the market” items. Be it whiter teeth, boutique clothes, spotless cars or the latest technological gadget, parents today maintain a gotta-have-it compulsion. Prevalent philosophies include (Current wisdom): Latest Is Greatest and More Is More. (Clearly, ideal parents provide the best clothes and the most toys). Consequently, I worry well-meaning parents unwittingly foster a sense of entitlement in their children. In a race to get the most, and the best, stuff, have we forgotten ‘the best’ is rarely ‘the most’? I wonder if parents realize the cost of such temporary treasures goes beyond mere dollars and cents. (Do they take into account -sometimes confuse price and quantity with growth and quality) Ironically, in showering their children with brand name clothes and hi-tech doodads, parents are flushing away pieces of childhood. Perhaps these adults would benefit from a Dickensian trip to Christmas Past.
I was trying to teach “Star light, Star bright “ to one of my reading students awhile back. As she cautiously read one word after another, a funeral dirge came to mind. I began to wonder if I had drifted to off to a building with chanting Gregorian monks. “Sweetheart, do you have a window in your bedroom?” She nodded, thrown off guard by my question. “Have you ever crept over to that window and nudged it open, before you hopped in bed? Have you listened to the chirping crickets and felt the breeze as you gazed upon the moon? Have you stared up at the brightest star in the night sky? Gathering in your heart a sweet wish, and whispering it to the star….knowing stars really can’t grant wishes…but what if they could?” I was met with the proverbial ‘deer in the headlights’ look. “Well, sweetheart, how about this? Have you ever played hide and seek after supper, and as you’re ducking behind a tree, you notice that night has fallen. You look past the fireflies and see the shiniest star has only just appeared. And you silently wish for something you’ve never told a soul…hoping that it will come true?” At this point, I faced a ‘you’re nuts, let’s get this reading thing over with’ look. “That’s what this verse is about! Wishing on a star, it’s not a sad poem!” I was about to burst into song, my very own rendition of, “When You Wish Upon A Star…”, when it occurred to me that perhaps her evenings didn’t include crickets, fireflies or hide and seek. Perhaps a sack of McDonalds while watching TV, and then some Gameboy action until her eyes could no longer remain open. “Let’s read this together, and then promise me you’ll find the brightest star in the sky tonight, OK?” She shrugged back into her classroom.
I'd strongly argue replacing reality with virtual reality cheats children. Parents rationalize the latest and greatest video games, “give” their children opportunities. Staring on to a computer screen, does a child truly build camaraderie or exchange ideas as a team? Can video games impart the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat? Instead of downloading experiences into the minds of young ones…perhaps parents ought simply to open the back door. Children should not be robbed of the chance to experience the reality of play for themselves. At least that was my argument until the Bug and the Pea placed Nintendo DS on the #1 spot of their Santa lists for the third year in a row. ("Mommy, maybe THIS year Santa will bring us one!) These are the sweet baby dolls who never ask for a thing. Not even a pack of gum while standing in line at the checkout counter. These are the sweet babies who are content with hand-me-downs, always order water at a restaurant, and never whine, "But everyone else has one!" They still play for hours with blocks and stuffed animals and puzzles they've owned for ages. So, I thought, "Hey, why not?"
I've steadfastly avoided video games for 37 years now. I'm sorry to say I just don't see the point of them all. I'd much rather curl up with a well worn book under a quilt than shoot space invaders with a remote. In fact, I've been lobbying (unsuccessfully) for ages to completely throw out our television sets. After all, we could use our computer screen to play movies and catch up on newsworthy events. (Not that I would do that, I prefer to remain in my own little happy world, ignorant of the violence and evils of the world. But that's another story altogether...)
Nevertheless, I ventured to purchase two Nintendo DSi's for the kiddos. I wrapped them in the most ginormous boxes I could find and placed them under the Christmas tree. The girls opened the "usual gifts" first...new paint, new paintbrushes, sketchbooks, clay, some books, new socks. They, as always, were appreciative and grateful and giggly with glee. When they opened the DSi's the Bug and the Pea were thrilled. If I had any worries the kids would be baffled with the new technology, my worries were unwarranted. Within an hour of opening the gift, my first grader created a slideshow of photographs and set it to music. My third grader is probably discovering a scientific cure for diseases, even as I type.
After celebrating Christmas at our home, we traveled to my mother-in-law's for brunch. Under her tree were a wealth of gifts for the family. My husband and I opened our gift last: a Nintendo Wii. And I knew we were about to jump into this century feet first! I knew at that very moment, the television set was here to stay. The battle was lost, no hope for a comeback. Admitting defeat, I volunteered to set up the Wii. A few plugs here, a little synchronization there, the console was up and running in no time. I must say the video games of today are a far cry from the Texas Instrument's Parsec of my childhood. The children are not seated quietly on a couch while they play, but rather racing around the den,swinging their arms and legs and giggling out loud.
I know I should be finishing up my thank-you notes, even as I type. My general rule of thumb dictates: a gift may not be used until the thank-you note has been placed in the mailbox. However, as I'm currently vying for a championship boxing title..the thank-you notes must wait a few minutes as I 'take the ring'...in my den...