We finally were able to get our hands on a Wii system. The price was retail, and , amazingly, we were granted a reprieve from paying the exorbitant prices being asked at various venues by people who stood in hours to buy theirs (hint: to find yours, check the big box online stores).
What I don't understand is how something that is so physical, painful and potentially damaging (according to the myriad warning labels and book addendums) can also be such a hit.
The Wii is like the ball pit of the 90's. Those, when they were new, were probably as dangerous as the Wii, but everyone wanted a part of that action, too. Whether someone had just thrown up their entire stomach contents in there, or lost a full diaper, that just added to the 'living on the edge' quality of the event. Parents got the brunt of it, in any event. Why grown adults are always the target of small children flailing thing must be the equalizer that is the ball pit. Children aren't allowed to hurl contraband at one another. But adults? Why, they are the smiling dupes, grinning-or possibly wincing-- at stepping on something that just smooshed. Even mock affability feigns being hit with things.
The Wii is the reincarnation of the ball pit. A game system with multiple warnings about possible epileptic attacks due to flashing lights isn't that worrisome. The 'your controller can exit your home via the window? Make me laugh! The 'watch the flailing body limbs during these games' should be a major warning indicator.
Many people have lost their Wii remotes through television sets and windows, and have lived to pay the expensive tab for not wearing their wrist straps. Determined to not see the same thing happen to us, we read all the instructions, made sure there was an acceptable amount of space around folks playing, and we went for the video gaming gusto we'd patiently awaited for months.
It was pretty sweet.
That is, until you put the control in the hands of a five-year old.
I'm not precisely sure how it happened or why it did, but the manual didn't prepare my husband from getting smacked in his sweet jewels while he was standing behind our small daughter who was trying to thwack tennis balls.
Nothing is more attractive than seeing my man's falsetto assurances of "I'm ok" accompanied by hobbling. It's like watching a man trying to hold a hubcap in front of his groin to protect himself from a herd of angry rhinoceros. After the fact.
The 14 year old, never remiss for laughter when it has to do with someone getting hit in the reproductives, started laughing at his father who had been too close to the kindergartner armed with a Wii remote. However, his hilarity almost immediately morphed into one of high-pitched pain of a man who'd just met with karmic moment.
In all of his laughing, he had been in the way of her very next serve.
The daughter never noticed the two slightly doubled-over males behind her. Only that she had made the shot. Both times. And in more ways than one.
The score: Love, 0
Love the
Wii? 1