My boys were begging me to buy the new "Halo: Reach" game for the X-Box their uncle had just given them.
All I'd heard about the "Halo" games was bad, bad, bad. Bad premise. Bad violence. Bad language.
But I checked it out anyway. 4 1/2 out of 5 stars. A new "team" approach. Great graphics. For around 60 bucks.
The economics weren't an issue. Dominic said he'd pitch in $15, and a $20 gift card came with the purchase, so I'd really only fork over $35.
Like everything else that comes through our door, though, I wanted the game to have some kind of literary merit.
We bought it.
"Play with us," the boys then begged, after they'd "tried it out" for a couple of hours.
I did the usual Mom Thing: "I'll just watch you guys play."
Nope, they wanted me to play.
So there I was, sitting on the edge of the sofa, controller in hand, bumping my character -- Noble One?-- into a rock over and over and over.
"Mommy, follow me," Dominic told me.
I couldn't find him. I just kept running, er, jumping my guy into rocks and water and over bridges.
"Mommy, you're shooting me," Dominic said as kindly as he could. "Now you're just running into a wall. And why is your night vision on? And why are you throwing granades at yourself?"
Okay, this "Halo," it has absolutely no literary merit. But I can't tell you how long and hard we all laughed at my "skills."
FALL 2015 TOUR
1 year ago