And he is six, and who knew this rampant need to play video games was buried inside his fingertips and probably stretches deep: up his limbs to his firm, round shoulders?
I’ve lamented this fact since the Wii arrived for Christmas, and I have people try to console me with the notion that he’s being “active,” but I just wish he was in the backyard gulping fresh air and using his thick legs in long strides. Playing real sports. Running real laps. Using real rackets.
Our only defense and power over Satan are these luscious, strong bodies. And I wonder, in this virtual age, if we sacrifice the pleasure of doing something physically because it’s so much easier to do it virtually via avatar or mii.