Wii Are Humbled

I talked to my parents on the phone today as I do every Sunday. I call them...they call me...either way, it's a weekly thing. We "catch up."

I used part of this catching up time to grumble to Mommy Sheep about how I couldn't connect my new Wii to the internet. It seems I'd secured my connection and managed to forget my password. Further, I'd not gotten around to emailing my service provider for that bit of information, mostly because it is embarrassing to admit that you've forgotten such a thing. Mommy Sheep's response wasn't entirely illogical. She asked, "Didn't you write it down?"

I chuckled and said that I'd apparently thought it so simple to remember that it didn't need writing down. Jokes on me! I was the model of lighthearted.

But on the inside, I did that mental eye roll. The one that means, "OmigodMOM! Like I wouldn't have thought of that! Sheesh!"

Don't look so innocent. You know the mental eye roll. You've done it. It is the universal, internal gesture of human offspring everywhere.

When the call ended, I happened to notice the scrap of paper upon which I illegibly scrawl my various and sundry passwords. I picked it up to review it because there is no finer feeling in this world than justifying a mental eye roll and...there it was.

On the back of the paper.

Written in that oh-so-crafty-and-probably-easily-cracked code of mine.

The password.

Written down.

Like Mommy said.

This was just like that time I told her about my new plan for organizing the cutlery in the dishwasher. "Like with like," I proudly proclaimed. "Now I'll be able to put things away with ease and efficiency!" Mommy Sheep patiently explained why this might not be such a great idea but I didn't listen. I was too busy doing the mental eye roll except that time the eye roll came with spoons that needed to be rewashed because they all stuck together just like my mother said they would.

I just never learn. My mother is smarter than I am. All mothers are smarter than I am. The fact that they are too nice to point it out doesn't make it less true. The best I can hope for is that I'll start catching myself sooner, maybe even do what my mother says before wasting precious eyeball energy on an ultimately foolish gesture.

The password was correctly entered, the Wii happily accepted it and now..

I can haz the interwebs on my Tee-Vee!

It probably would have been better had I used a flash. I find that "context" is a useful thing sometimes. A flash can help provide that on dark days when you want to take a photo of your television. But I got all caught up in the excitement and wonder of living in these here modern times and forgot.

Besides, it's Daddy Sheep's job to remind me about that kind of stuff. Not that it would have mattered. I think we are all clear now regarding my need to ignore any and all solid parental advice since I know soooooo much more than everyone else.

With the wireless connection established, I was able to download the browser and even purchase a game through the online store. I didn't play it right away, though. No. I did many rows on the shawl as penance for my eye-rolling ways. Then I did another repeat to make up for the fact that the game I purchased was of the table tennis variety, thereby proving yesterday's theory that I am becoming something of a gaming wimp in my old age.

It only seemed right. However, I fear that this shawl is starting to turn into my own, personal rosary. When it is finished, it will be so laden with the weight of my sins that I fear it will crush me the first time I toss it jauntily about my shoulders. I'll probably give one last eye roll before being smothered by it.

Mothers are smarter. Mine probably could have told me to not imbue the shawl with that much penance...

SA