Battling video game addiction

Jason Offutt

The Boy looked thoughtful, which he sometimes does when he’s not looking like he just hit his sister, which he also sometimes does.

“Hey, Dad,” he said. “You’re going to be proud of me.”

Excellent.

Like any parent, I love being proud of my children.

Of course, pride may simply come when a child wipes a booger on a tissue instead of the couch. Pride is a dicey thing.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, looking at him from squinted eyes.

“Did you wrestle a bear?”

This was the proper response. To a 10-year-old, platitudes like, “you’re so grown up,” or “I’m always proud of you” smack of parental insincerity.

You don’t want your kid to think you’re insincere when he’s 16 and tell him, “My ass” when he asks to borrow your car to go to a college kegger.

“No,” he said. “Instead of playing video games, I read a book.”

Huh?

This is coming from the kid who talks with religious fervor about video games he’s not allowed to play. I might be a bit prudish, but any game with “assassin” in the title might not be appropriate for people who still find “SpongeBob SquarePants” hilarious.

“Wow,” I said. “That was really mature.”

He looked at me like I’d just spoken a foreign language.

“Do you know what mature means?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Rated M for Mature. I can’t play those games.”

Video games.

Everything with him is about video games. Which is understandable.

An estimated 91 percent of American children play video games, according to research by the Entertainment Software Association. When adults are factored in, that number is 58 percent, or roughly 183 million Americans.

Scientists say that’s bad.

A joint study by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Andrews University and Emory University showed heavy video gamers suffer from depression more often than non-gamers, are overweight, withdrawn from society, rely on the Internet for social activities, and report a high incidence of being shoved into lockers.

As responsible parents, my wife and I limit our children’s screen time to 30 minutes per day, shoo them outside to play, and bought a video game system that only offers games they don’t enjoy.

“But I want to play ‘Halo 3’.”

“Sorry, Boy, but our system doesn’t take that game.

How about ‘My Pretty Pony Gets Lost,’ or ‘The Soco Gap Dancers: Come Clog With Us’?”

We’re great parents.

Not that I have anything against video games. When I was a kid I would spend hours at the arcade Donkey Konging myself into a frenzy.

With over the counter Valium and socially acceptable drunk driving, parents didn’t pay as much attention to their children back then.

Simpler times.

“Mature means grown up,” I told the Boy. “Responsible. I am proud of you.”

“So,” he said. “Can I have an Xbox One Limited Edition ‘Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare’ Bundle?”

I shook my head.

“Nope. You’ll poke your eye out with that thing, kid.”

Jason Offutt’s first novel, “A Funeral Story,” is available at amazon.com.