Trares
The look of disdain was withering.
“Daddy, c’mon, you know this!” my son shouted at me.
If I had any illusions of my cool factor, at least to the younger generation, Anthony put me properly in my place.
We were sitting on the living room floor as he went through his varying “Minecraft” toys. The engineering/adventure game has been one of his favorites for a couple of years now. In the game’s “creative” mode, he has constructed an entire world one block at a time.
Anthony has conceived mine-cart rollercoasters, water slides, elaborate tree houses and a chicken ranch that stretched for what seemed to be miles. His underwater house features glass walls to give a view of the aquatic life swimming around, complete with their own aquariums inside as decoration.
When his grandfather first introduced the game to Anthony, I was skeptical. I didn’t want him spending all of his time on his iPad playing some newfangled game.
But after watching him for a while, I changed my tune. “Minecraft” has unlocked a level of creativity that I didn’t know Anthony had. He’s learned basic engineering and coding through the game, all while reveling in a fantastical world of animals, villagers, monsters and other creatures.
The deeper he’s become invested in the game, the more he’s been drawn into the mythology of it. He gets books about the characters out of his school library, flips through magazines that he finds at the store and had a whole collection of toys based on the game.
All of which led to the impromptu quiz one weeknight. Anthony would pick up a toy one-by-one, asking, “Which one is this?”
My performance was subpar. I could not tell the difference between a piglin and a vex, a mooshroom or a jellie cat. Still couldn’t really tell you what those things are.
Anthony was incredulous. For someone who lives in the “Minecraft” world, it seemed impossible that people might not know these things. And I heard all about it.
His exasperation was short-lived, though. Instead, he climbed up on my lap and walked me through each one.
“This is a baby zombie, and this is a desert mason, and this is a green sheep …” he explained. On and on he went.
I appreciated that. He wanted me to learn the things that he liked, if only so I could be better at playing the game with him.
Hoping to redeem myself, I picked up a figure of a small white bird.
“OK, well this is clearly a duck, right?” I asked.
Hand to his face, Anthony signed deeply.
“No, daddy,” he said. “That’s a chicken.”
