There is a story that is legendary in our house. It is a tale of video games and togetherness from when Drummer Man (27) was small.
The world of Nintendo was new then. It was basic and unsophisticated by today's standards. My boy was 6 when we entered the world of Super Mario and Princess Toadstool.
Yes, I played too. I was a closet geek who enjoyed Pong, Centipede and Tetris. Omigod, Tetris. I was a woman obsessed and, years later, could still beat the pants off any whippersnapper who dared to challenge me.
But I digress.
The world of the original Legend of Zelda called to Drummer Boy and me. He played, and I watched. Or I played, and he watched. At night, while he slept, I sometimes played into the early hours to earn him extra rupees (the currency of the realm) so he could buy more potions and candles and other stuff when he played the next day.
When he got to the BIG BOSS, Ganon himself, it was a total Mommy-and-Drummer production. The final castle at Death Mountain was dark and filled with dead ends, traps and monsters to dispatch. And you only have limited "lives" to get through it, for heaven's sake!
So we made a map.
Slowly, painfully, over the course of several days, we plotted Link's course through Ganon's lair.
Turn right HERE. Go through THIS door. Do battle with THIS dragon, but make sure you have your sword at the ready.
It was color-coded ... and it was ours.
And when we were done, Drummer Boy had beaten Ganon, and the two of us danced for a long time to the special video-game music that came with victory.
Video and computer games have changed since those long-ago days of rudimentary characters and jerky movements.
And my children have long since passed my technical skill, knowledge and -- frankly -- interest.
But the memory of a mommy and her 7-year-old son, huddled together over a game controller and a hand-drawn map, will stay with me forever.