We had a family gathering yesterday at my Aunt and Uncle's house where their grandson had hit the motherload this Christmas and was one of the lucky few who got a Wii. William, who only thought he hit the motherload when he got a red scooter from Santa, was hooked after a few rounds of boxing where, exhibiting his moves, he looked more Jennifer Beal in Flashdance than Rocky Balboa. But it provided loads of entertainment for us all as we were clustered inside taking shelter from the cold and rain.
When his cousin, to whom the Wii belonged, began skating on thin ice with his mother who threatened to take it away, William looked up and mouthed to her "Call me." Guess he knows that's the only way he'll score one of these prizes at this time - by default.
On the way home, through his tears of sadness from having to leave all the newfound fun, he hollered from the back "What was that thing called again?" The exchange went something like this:
It's a Wii.
A what?
A Wii.
A what?
A Wii.
A what?
OH!
He must have been dreaming about it because when I went into his room to kiss him goodnight last night, he was talking in his sleep and saying "I'm a fighter. I'm a fighter. I'm fighting."
And after seeing that these little inventions are still going for $400+ ON EBAY, his dreams are the only place he'll be playing. Unless of course Petey falls through that ice and William gets his phone call.
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