23. The Gaming Console (Episode 3/6)
So it was that the gaming console became part of our life and that I lived to regret it. I stupidly thought it could be put away just like when you store away the Christmas decorations and everyone forgets about them.
Over the weeks and the months and maybe the years that followed (I voluntarily lost count) this gaming console became a chore and a source of stress. It pained me to see my children wasting their time on these stupid games. Why weren't they reading Shakespeare or Molière ? ...
So I had to supervise them and I had to remember I was supervising them which proved near impossible (I had a life of my own!). I had to time them but still I had to remember I was timing them. And when I did remember they were on a timer I had to stop them from playing when the time was up. I tried to confiscate it which led to me hiding it which in turn led me to losing it because I could not remember where I had hidden it. Then I had to admit I could not remember and I had to organise a mad search party around the house with the four of them scurrying around, opening cupboards and emptying toy chests and crawling under beds. They would check in the freezer, in the washing machine and all the way to the stifling hot garage to check the boot of the car. That was fun. Until they found it. Because they always ended up finding it. Even if I did give them a good run for their money.
Basically, I had to pretend I was in control when I clearly wasn't. And I did not like that. And when my husband came home late and we had a drink by the pool under the stars or when we went out it was not the most romantic topic of conversation.
I tried to be constructive and positive and forward-looking and open to new technologies and the new century or whatever rubbish I could read on the Internet (unlike what you are reading now of course) but that did not work either.
So now and again and more often than not I had to let go ... and I did not like that!
Over the weeks and the months and maybe the years that followed (I voluntarily lost count) this gaming console became a chore and a source of stress. It pained me to see my children wasting their time on these stupid games. Why weren't they reading Shakespeare or Molière ? ...
So I had to supervise them and I had to remember I was supervising them which proved near impossible (I had a life of my own!). I had to time them but still I had to remember I was timing them. And when I did remember they were on a timer I had to stop them from playing when the time was up. I tried to confiscate it which led to me hiding it which in turn led me to losing it because I could not remember where I had hidden it. Then I had to admit I could not remember and I had to organise a mad search party around the house with the four of them scurrying around, opening cupboards and emptying toy chests and crawling under beds. They would check in the freezer, in the washing machine and all the way to the stifling hot garage to check the boot of the car. That was fun. Until they found it. Because they always ended up finding it. Even if I did give them a good run for their money.
Basically, I had to pretend I was in control when I clearly wasn't. And I did not like that. And when my husband came home late and we had a drink by the pool under the stars or when we went out it was not the most romantic topic of conversation.
I tried to be constructive and positive and forward-looking and open to new technologies and the new century or whatever rubbish I could read on the Internet (unlike what you are reading now of course) but that did not work either.
So now and again and more often than not I had to let go ... and I did not like that!
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