Dad vs. Zelda

Months passed. Neighboring families fell to the video game onslaught, but I proudly held the line in our house, thunderously squashing seditious requests for Rush, Quake, and Mario Cart. But during that long hard winter of `98, I met my match in a woman. And her name was Zelda

The downfall occurred when I was picking up Henry at a birthday party. When I dropped Henry off, the yard was charged with male energy, but now it was empty. Smeared cake plates and shredded gift-wrapping rustled in a chilly wind. Where were the celebrants? I found Henry sitting on swing in a corner of the yard, head hanging, nudging Piata remains with the toe of his shoe. Whats up, bud? I asked. He didnt even look up. He just pointed to the house.

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I found the other boys gathered around the big screen inside. The birthday boy was playing Zelda, a video game involving an elf or something who is going somewhere to do something to Zelda, who is a queen-goddess or something. The boys were mesmerized. Play the perilu of light! Warp to the time castle! Grab the decunut! they screamed. Not only were they totally into it, but they were apparently fluent in this new video-language. And there was my son, outside. Alone. On a swing. Twisting in the wind.