When Mama wants to write, you’d think video games would keep the beast occupied. Mama was wrong. This actually happened in our house mere minutes ago.
Boy: Mom, can I play Skyrim?
Me: Sure! That means I can get some writing done while you play.
Boy: (5 minutes later) I hate these dumb Draugr! Can you help me beat them?
Me: (looks at the meager five sentences I have written and sighs) Yes, gimme the controller. (tries to play) Wait, why don’t you have an enchanted weapon? Where are all your Elven arrows? You came into a barrow with NO HEALING POTIONS?
[Mom beats Draugr, despite horrible weapon selection]
Boy: Thank you!
Me: Now please play quietly so I can work on my chapter, ok?
Boy: (literally ten seconds later) *makes loud screeching noise every time he fires an arrow*
I tried to write for thirty minutes, I got exactly one paragraph down. And I immediately highlighted it for future edits because I’m fairly sure it won’t live to see another day.
But at least the boy is entertained, happily assisting the Stormcloaks fight their way into Whiterun. That’s my boy.