My three kids were playing on their school laptops on a recent Sunday morning, silently absorbed in their video games.
I had gone into the living room after walking the dog on a crisp winter morning, and stopped to watch. They were pushing buttons here and there to advance in Horse Life, Sonic the Hedgehog and Super Mario Bros., no words shared between them.
I interrupted and said, “I see you’ve found the board games.”
The eldest looked up at me and said, “Ha, ha.”
My autistic and very literal son, who is 10 years old, didn’t understand my sarcasm and looked at me like I’d grown a third leg.
“No we haven’t,” he said, lifting up his computer to show me it. “We’re playing on our computers.”
I went to make coffee.
In the kitchen, I heard the eldest, who is 12 years old, shut her laptop.
“Hey,” she said to her brother and sister. “How about we play a game of Blokus?”
I heard the other two shut their laptops and then the board games cupboard open.
I took my coffee and went to the living room and watched as they started setting up Blokus.
An hour went by, and the three of them were still at it, with hoots and laughter and a few competitive grunts and hollers, and I thought, there’s still hope for humanity in the digital age.