If you want to do something like watch movies during spring break, don't ever let your son purchase Super Smash Brothers for Wii.
First off, you will see your first born turn into a drooling, zombie like creature who is unresponsive to calls of nature--you know hunger, thirst, one's bladder.
This same creature, you know the one who daily swims 3000-4000 meters in a pool as well as running hills for 30 minutes, will suddenly complain loudly the next day at swim practice of the pain of stiff forearms, kinked fingers, aching wrists. Yes, all Wii-indicative injuries.
What's worst is your baby will become a Wii-sighted changeling. As in his eyes are so glued, so magnetized to the screen that all other orifices malfunction. Ears become clogged. Mouth becomes mute. Even smells that illicit drools become moot in his immune nose. He has become a Wii-pod.
But worse yet, one's supposed adult husband suddenly starts referring to himself as in the know about gaming circles. He reverts to being a pimply faced, slack jawed, pursed lipped,greasy haired video gamer. And he takes this pose for hour upon hour without so much as a twitch:
Yes, my friends, the elusive suburban husband flamingo lives.
Luckily, myself and my young daughter are immune to the wii-itis effects. Nope, she read her book in disdain and I just bitched in my head.
I might have to get a Nerf gun and put down those flamingoes, zombies, and changelings so I can watch Top Chef on Tivo.
Damn you, Wii. Damn you, Nintendo.