I’ve never been into video games. I never had a Nintendo growing up and have never really cared to since.
Oregon Trail in typing class was probably the closest I got.
But that’s all changing.
Because it’s not about me anymore. It’s about Big D. And that kid is a gamer.
For the first two months he lived with us, I could never get the name of his handheld system right. d3s? sd3?
At first, I legitimately didn’t know. Then, I just loved hearing his exasperated groan as he corrected me, “3DS!”
Mostly he did his thing and I did mine.
But gradually, his thing moved closer to my thing. Not what we were doing. But where we were doing it.
He seemed to be saddled up so close to my side that it was a bit difficult to do whatever my thing was.
And a bit more difficult to pretend as if it was more important than his thing.
So I jumped in. I bought a WiiU and I’m learning the difference between the A button and B button and I’m downright terrible. But very eager in my flailing.
I don’t know that I’ll ever be good or even be able to tell if it’s Gohan or Goku that’s fighting, but that’s ok.
He sees me trying. He sees me seeing him, knowing him and choosing him. And that’s what matters.