‘Wii-oh-Wii-oh-Wii!!!’

It started out harmlessly enough. My newly-toddling son liked to watch Cubs games with his old man–or, at least whatever he processed them to be. At first, it was because he liked to sing the simple chorus to Steve Goodman’s “Go Cubs Go” at the end of every home win. Then as he watched more games, he began to pick up on the basics–the basic shape of the field, pitching, batting, and running.

So, one day, when he was being frustrated, sweet and restless all at once, I popped in Wii Sports and whipped up a baseball game. He loved it. Cartoony and basic, he was able to follow things so much easier.

Eventually, he started to want his own remote, and he swung the remote like he was hitting the ball. He’d cheer when someone (usually not me once I hit pro) hit a line drive, running after he got a “hit.”

Growing up with a dad who was a gamer, growing up loving video games, and seeing how increasingly dependent on technology each generation becomes, I’m concerned about my son playing video games at the expense of other joys of childhood.

I had thought things were going well. He loves to have stories read to him; when it was warmer, he always wanted to go outside. But over the holidays, it has become evident that I may have inadvertently created a monster.

Several of the various holiday parties we attended had Wiis. My parents have one. So from the 24th through the 29th, he got a heavy dose of watching the grown-ups play Wii.

So it was no surprise that whenever we visit my parents, after greeting his grandparents, he runs right over the charging station and yells “Wii-oh-Wii-oh-Wii.” And if he doesn’t get it, boy, look out.

So yeah, the Wii at our house will be hidden for a month or two.