Thanks Mom!

At 10 I was Batman, running the streets of hidden beneath a plastic mask and a towel my mother tied around my neck.
By the time I reached 12, I was Reggie Miller, spending all my free time in our driveway putting up last second buzzer-beaters to win the game.
At 14, I was Tom DeLonge, rocking out a sold out crowd with my air guitar, singing into a hairbrush and winking to all my adoring female fans.

At what point in our lives do we stop pretending? When does imagination give way to maturity?

Perhaps the best thing my mother ever did for me happened on my ninth birthday.
All I wanted was a Nintendo and Super Mario 3, and after unwrapping all of my gifts, there was no Nintendo.
I was crushed, but then my mother pulled out a very large box from under the counter about the size of the game system, and my heart started racing faster than RUSH drum solo.
I tore into the wrapping paper excitably only to find that there was not a nintendo, but simply a red hat.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked to my mother and said "But I wanted to play Mario," to which she replied as she took the hat from the box and placed it on my head, "but Kevin, you are Mario!"

It was on that day while I was running around my yard jumping on imaginary Goombas that I stopped concerning myself with video games.

Perhaps Ray Bradbury said it best..."Video games are a waste of time for men with nothing else to do."

Thanks mom!