It's a typical Tuesday evening. The house is calm, dinner plates are still in the sink, and the muffled sounds of online warfare seep from behind his closed door. Then, the volume crescendos—explosions, gunfire, and, inevitably, the guttural screams of a 14-year-old losing at a game he swears he’s the best at. "Bruh, oh my God," he shrieks, hammering his keyboard as if smashing 'W' and 'D' simultaneously will somehow resurrect his character. He YEETS his headset and pushes away from his disheveled landscape of snack wrappers, Dorito dust and water bottles just for the chaos to unfold. His eyes blaze with fury; his face contorts into a Picasso painting of adolescent angst. And then, in a grand finale worthy of an MMA fighter delivering the knockout blow, his foot rises, and the wall…well, the wall becomes a casualty of war..
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, a hole in the wall. The kind that would make you question if you’re housing a teenager or training a young Conor McGregor. I can just imagine it: the aftermath of his rage—standing there, staring at the damage, eyes wide, and an overwhelming wave of fear washing over him. “Oh no, what have I done?” is probably echoing in his mind. As he realizes the reality of the situation, he frantically begins calculating: how can I spin this? How can I cover it up?
Suddenly, I get a text from my fiancé that reads, “Our son is in big trouble, and he will tell you why when you get home.” My heart races. What on Earth has he done now?
By the time I get home, she has already popped her top and chewed his rear. And there’s my stepson, nervously shifting from foot to foot, trying to explain how his moment of rage spiraled into a home renovation project. “It just... happened,” he mumbles, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head: how can I spin this to make it sound like the wall deserved it?
It’s been a week now without his precious computer privileges, and let me tell you, the kid is losing his mind. If you’ve never seen a teenager deprived of their gaming sanctuary, I highly recommend it—if you enjoy watching the slow, tragic unraveling of a young soul. He’s like a caged lion pacing back and forth, moaning like a wounded animal, plotting his escape or, at the very least, a coup d’état against the parental unit.
But for every foot-sized crater and banshee-inducing meltdown, there’s also an opportunity—a chance to patch, paint, and remind our teen that, sometimes, the best battles are won not with a kick, but with a calm, collected, and hopefully not destructive approach to gaming…and life.
Until next time, I’ll be in the hardware aisle, shopping for a DIY project worthy of HGTV: “Renovation: Gamer Edition.”
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