“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT,” says my sister Claire in a voice mail. ” You told me to move the Wii upstairs!” She hangs up. She has an uncanny way of getting me to call back quickly. I’m sitting here wondering what in the name of Super Mario Galaxy she is talking about.

Claire was the first person I knew to get a Nintendo Wii console game, two years ago, back when the system was introduced. I did not approve. I was a cranky old video game naysayer, a person who maintained, firmly, that my own children would not have their creativity thwarted, would not be tempted by the evils of pixel addiction that I believed virtual play on video screens to represent. It gave me something to feel superior about.

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