Stop yelling at me. I don’t know why I’m plowing into this corner either, but the harder I push this toggle-pusher thingy, the harder it pushes back. Also: why are there four screens? It’s hard for me to tell what I’m looking at.
Oh, that’s all of us? That’s so sweet. It makes me so happy to see us all together like that. We really ought to grab a picture for Gran and Granpop before we—oh no, what just happened?
Am I—floating right now? Why am I floating?
I died?
How do I un-die?
I think I remember asking you to stop yelling at me. Do we make good choices when we yell? We do not. I think someone’s going to see a precipitous decline in their screen time allowance if we can’t work on our tone.
Oh, thank you for un-dying me. Now let me figure out how to—oh, hey, movement! I’m moving! I’m—
Jumping.
Okay, so I’m still in this corner, but at least I’m seeing a different part of it. A higher part. Repeatedly. But look, I just landed on two of those goblins. And these laser beams—wow! They just shoot right out of my eyes, I guess?
Sorry, I see that I took out one of those little heart thingies above your head—
Your LIFE? Oh, let’s not be melodramatic. I have a feeling you may know someone who labored for thirty-eight hours to give YOU life.
Yes, I see you. I SEE you, I said. You act like running down this wall is pretty easy for someone who’s never managed to put dirty socks into a hamper.
Besides, I’m obviously dealing with a higher center of gravity than you are. No wonder I’m not more nimble—couldn’t they give me a cardigan or something to cover these enormous breasts? Or somewhere to put this sword? I feel like I might accidentally slice one of these suckers right off.
Oh, don’t sound so scandalized. Breasts are a perfectly normal thing to talk about. I have two of my own, for goodness sake. If anything, they were more yours than mine for the first three years or so after you were born—
Excuse me? Did you just tell me to stop talking about my tits? Did you say “tits” just now? To your mother? There are appropriate words and there are inappropriate words, and I think you know what kind you just used.
I’m going to walk back into this stone corner until you apologize.
Thank you. I forgive you, of course. That’s what mothers do. Over and over and over again.
Isn’t this fun? I’m so glad you talked me into this—this game is loads better than Uno. And speaking of loads, guess what? In between loads of laundry—I folded your underwear, by the way, it’s on your bed—I’ve been watching a few of those TockTock things online so I can be a better video game teammate, because that’s what families do: we work together.
Now, let me show you this cool move I learned to get rid of those nasty goblins. See?
That’s his SPINE!
And look, if I do this combination here, I can crochet it into a tea cozy. I bet you didn’t even know THAT was an option, did you? If you’d stop and use your words and count to ten when you’re angry, you might learn something.
Plus, some other game-moms figured out a “mod” to hack entrails into yarn, so we have a LOT of yarn to work with.
First order of business: I’m making myself a cardigan with a nice, sturdy rib stitch. Because I’ve got to bind these baps of mine down somehow.
Also, it’s pretty obvious I’m cold.