It was Sunday, eleven at night — Bryce was asking to have our nightly video game. I said that it was late already, maybe we could play tomorrow, instead. He said, “just 5 minutes.” I asked Jaycelle, who was already beginning to doze off, if it was ok. She affirmed with a sleepy nod.
From the computer table’s drawer, I pulled out the video game joystick. This time, I let Bryce unravel the cable, which was looped in neatly. It was a challenge for him as he was still learning. Finally, when all was set and N64’s logo was on the screen, he whispered, “F5, F5.”
Kirby is a pink puffball — in our own words — who has the power to absorb other creatures’ abilities by swallowing them. It could also float up in the air by inflating itself and holding its breath. And the puff of air it releases (when it is all tired and consumed floating) can also obliterate other creatures. In short, Bryce and I love Kirby next to Spider-Man.
From the previous night, we’re already at stage 3 or so. We’ve went through several adventures and defeated some big bosses and we were excited to continue the game. It was supposed to be a simple “load the game by pressing F7” but I pressed F5 and mistakenly saved the game in the introductory story.
I tried to shift the blame to Bryce by saying, “why did you say F5?”
He defended himself by saying, “I said F7!”
“I heard you say F5,” I said disappointingly. “Now we’re going to start over.”
He didn’t look disappointed, though — he didn’t blame me back despite my boo-boo. In fact, Bryce had the same excitement of playing the game from wherever stage we’re going to start. I glanced at him for a brief moment — wide-eyed and big smile — and I followed his lead. We took turns playing through and enjoying that “5 minutes-turned-15 minutes” Kirby game.