Atari's have gone the way of ancient electronics. Modern moms: Think X-Box!
“Mom, I’ve got my Christmas list ready,” four-year-old
Michael informed me two weeks after Halloween. He handed me a roll of toilet paper inscribed with magic-markered hieroglyphics.
“Let’s see,” I began hopefully, “it says here that because
Mikey has been pretty good this year, he thinks he’s entitled to one sack of
marbles and a new yoyo.”
Not! That little boy who religiously watches Saturday
morning cartoons with all their commercials, had more sophisticated plans.
“No, Mommy, that’s not what I wrote,” he protested, twisting
his tongue on every “s” like Winthrop in THE MUSIC MAN. “What I really want is a 10-speed.” His voice was firm, despite the childish
lisp.
“But, Son, your legs are much too short to ride a bike like
that!”
“That’s okay,” he had it all planned out, “I don’t want to
have to wait around for it when I get big.”
Next on the list—my hands began to shake as I calculated the
impact of such requests multiplied by the demands of six children—was a television.
“What would you do with another TV?” I asked. “We already have two!”
“I’d put it in my room, so I could play with my Atari there.”
“Honey, you don’t even have an Atari!”
“I was just getting to that,” he cut me off.
I wiped the cold sweat off my forehead with the napkin list
and handed it back to him with a sigh.
“Young man,” I said, “it’s time you got a job!”
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I don't think there's a television in here, Mom!
