
With the last vestiges of Christmas packed away into the closet for another year. My dangerously swelling stomach hanging precariously over my belt buckle. The discarded Ferrero Rouger wrappings, compacted between the folds of the sofa cushions, trapped until next Christmas, it’s time to reflect and rejoice on a period of such uninhibited consumption and flippant spontaneity that makes Christmas such an engaging jaunt. A necessary respite to relieve the tension generated by the burden of an unfulfilling job. Yet despite the extended rest, I’ve still been busy: Purchasing ornate furnishings to decorate my home. Assisting my neighbours with any errands that may need satisfying. Having my recently excavating fossils appraised. Fishing. Farming. Palaeontology. Attracting new residents to my paradisaical community. Or simply performing any mundane task that improves the reputation of my island, and being an exemplary emissary for this self sustaining parish. As well as celebrating the New Year with all my animal friends.
I’m joking of course….I have no friends, real or otherwise. I was in fact being deligthfully fiendish, with a deception that cleverly disguised my true routine during the Christmas period. By which I mean my addictive obsession with Animal Crossing. An obsession that my 5 year old daughter has now contracted. Much to my mystified partners chagrin. But a frustration I have negotiated by insisting on the game’s written narratives and dialogue to express characters thoughts, as well as verbalise speech in the absence of a fully voiced discourse in traditional platforms, is actually a practical application to teach my daughter to read.
Though not entirely convinced by this endorsement, she was sufficiently placated when my daughter read the word “museum” without assistance. A rather articulate word for a 5 year old. But really this game has been a binding diversion for my daughter and I. A collaborative partnership between father and daughter, to the point that my daughter will chortle the words “Chickey-poo” or discuss her plans for our islands infrastructure, to which her mother is completely oblivious to the context. It’s our thing. Even though she is a mummy’s girl, Animal Crossing is a whimsical bond that allows us to communicate, even though we have fundamentally different interests. Seriously, how can a 5 year old have a more active social life? While mother and daughter have their mutual affection for Disney. We at least have Animal Crossing.
