The name of the game

For my younger son's birthday, my darling scientist got a Wii console.

As a present.

For my son.

As you probably have guessed, it is not unnecessary to spell out who it was supposed to be for, when you look at who is actually playing with it. There is nothing new: in generations past, fathers, grandfathers, uncles and other male carers have got balls, kites, model trains or cars for little boys, and spent hours playing with the toys.

But whoever heard of a woman buying her daughter a Barbie doll for the pleasure of dressing her up or arranging outings with Ken?

The obvious conclusion you will derive is that men never grow out of boyhood, and deep down remain little children. This may well be true, but it doesn't prove that women are more mature or less childlike.

To me it just goes to show that the toys traditionally designed and designated "for boys" are simply fun, while "girly" toys are the first step in the alienation of females. Women are not expected to do anything but serve and nurture (and look dumb into the bargain).

In the meantime, the family has tried their (slow) hand at old rock-and-roll standards, and I am proud to announce that I have finally managed to complete ONE song. But I'll spare you the sound for this one.



Mes camarades n'ont pas manqué de me faire remarquer que je cède bien vilainement aux sirènes de la société de consommation, et que mon empreinte carbone ne va pas s'en trouver allégée. J'assume, quitte à désespérer Jérémie et Patrick, à qui je demande ici pardon, bien que je doute fort qu'ils lisent jamais ces lignes.