I’m afraid I just don’t get it.
And probably never will . . .
Several of our grandchildren were over for a visit.
Something, I’m very pleased to say, that happens often.
One grandson, Thorin, aged five was very excited.
“Gramma!” he said. “Dad was playing Zelda (I’m assuming this is a video game . . .) and he got the mirror shield!”
I stared at him. “Ummm . . . good?” I was hazarding a guess here, based on my advanced people-reading skills.
Okay, in his enthusiasm, he was hovering a foot off the ground.
Nothing advanced needed.
Moving on . . .
“Yeah and he can get all the bad guys!”
Okay. Bad guys I do understand.
“So a mirror shield will get rid of bad guys?”
I spent a couple of moments in wrinkle-browed thought.
A mirror shield?
Apart from saving Perseus when he was fighting the Medusa, I couldn’t think of a single attribute that could make such a thing into an obviously important and much-sought-after weapon.
If it broke, would that give you seven gamer's years of bad luck?
And would one need glass cleaner to keep it pristine?
And just where would one carry and keep a bottle of glass-cleaner?
These are important details . . .
“So . . . how does it work?” I asked him finally. “Do you hold it up to the bad guys and they take one glimpse at themselves and say, ‘Man, is that what I look like? How could I have walked out the door this morning?!’ and then run home?”
It was Thorin’s turn to stare.
“No,” Gramma,” he said. “You use it to . . .” And he was off, describing scenarios and hair-breadth escapes.
I still think my way is better.