When I was growing up our Nintendo used to freeze up or blink on and off or just display a black screen unless we blew in it or performed some kind of chant.
I don’t know how, but I somehow convinced my little brother that I had the magic touch. I would cup the game in my hand and blow in the corner and then I would do the same to the inside of the console.
This one time my brother told me I couldn’t play and then he had trouble getting the game started and I was all “neener neener…that’s what you get!” and he was all “fix it!” and I was all, “No! You’re rude!” and he was all “FIIIXXXX ITTTT!” because we know how boys get about their video games when they won’t work.
But I refused. I relished in the power I had over his game. I would not fix the Nintendo.
And then my Mom was all, “what’s the problem in here??” and my brother was all, “Kathy won’t fix the Nintendo!!!!” and my Mom looked at me and was all, “Kathy fix the Nintendo.” And I just kind of stood there…stunned…because can moms actually do that? I mean, I know they can make us clean our rooms and say sorry and change our underwear, but can they actually force us to fix Nintendos?
“Go on!” she said, “Fix the Nintendo!”
Defeated, I walked over to the Nintendo and blew into the corner of the game and then into the console. I pressed power and willed it not to work, but the damn thing turned on. My brother was all “Neener neener!” and I just couldn’t really believe my life.
Yesterday my daughter told me about an old movie she watched that hasn’t really worked in months.
“Didn’t it skip for you?” I asked.
“No, I just blew it like I see you do and it worked!”
And the magic lives on.
I vow to never force her to use it against her will.