I’m blog blasting again with the Parent Blogger’s Network, because I have the time and because this topic brought up a memory that I would love to share. PBN teamed up with Hasbro in light of the Hasbro Hot Summer Toy Event and has asked what lengths we, as parents, have gone to to get the perfect toy for our kids…or what lengths our parents went to for us.

I wasn’t very old when Nintendo’s Game Boy hit the scene. I loved my NES system, falling down holes in Super Mario Brothers (I wasn’t very good), standing about 3 inches from the TV to shoot ducks in Duck Hunt. The handheld-ness of the Game Boy, though, it sure was shiny to me. Never mind the green and beige display, it was far too cool. We’d go shopping sometimes, I’m not sure if it was Zellers or KMart or where it was that had the display I can picture today with the Game Boy set up that you could play. The game was Tetris. I’d play it now and then, and I truly thought it was the best game ever.

To be honest, I don’t remember all of the details exactly. I’m not sure how much of this is colored by childhood memory and exaggeration. I remember taking a drive one day that, to me, seemed like the longest drive ever into the middle of nowhere in the country. Realistically, it was probably somewhere between a half hour and an hour into the suburbs, but I couldn’t say for sure. I remember sitting in the back seat, my parents up front, watching out the window at a landscape different from the city streets I was used to and wondering where we were going that was so far away.

We ended up pulling up to a house I didn’t know. My dad disappeared inside, and this is where things get a little fuzzy as to exactly how it all went down. The end result, however, was a little wooden box, hand crafted by my dad with a silver latch on the front. Inside the box was a Game Boy all my own, bought from the person in the house so far away, complete with a set of games, including my beloved Tetris. The box itself was custom designed for it, a few big spots for the Game Boy and an accessory, smaller slots for the games to fit so I could keep it all together and not lose anything.

As a kid, I recognized the thoughtfulness, but of course the big thing to me was the Game Boy itself. I used that thing for years and years, not retiring it until I was moved away and married. I sold it at a garage sale a couple years ago, keeping the games for my newer model that, incidentally, my parents bought for me as well, a gift to help pass the time on the long drive home after visiting them.

Grown now, I see the true gift: the time, planning, and love that went into crafting the box and finding the system, used but in great condition, with enough games to keep me entertained for years to come. I may have sold the Game Boy, but on a shelf in my basement sits a little wooden box, worn by time and a childhood well spent, empty of games but full of memories.