It's now the weekend. A similar situation ensues, but this time the nemesis is a Dad.
"Come on kid - time to go and play rugby in the park."
"But rugby sucks, Dad. It hurts too."
"Nonsense. It's a fine game and it'll make a man of you. We'll do some practice kicking at goal."
"Awwww, Dad." Head slumps in resignation.

Now in the park:
"No, you're not kicking it right. Here, let me show you. Oops, seem to have sliced that one. You keep your head down so, and... Ah well, you get the idea, must be these shoes."
"Yes dad."
For about two hours.

On the way home:
"Wasn't that fun, kid? Maybe we'll go fishing next weekend for a change."
"Awww, Dad!"
"Honestly, I don't know what's wrong with you. You'll get square eyes in front of that videogame all day long. You need to get some fresh air."
"Yes Dad."

The mists of time swirl and thicken. Our erstwhile downtrodden child gamer has grown up. He has the house decked out with all manner of consoles and PC hardware. Piles of magazines and cover CDs occupy any bit of floor space in toppling stacks. The phone rings. He hits pause and answers.

"Hello?"
"This is the maternity ward here. Your wife has entered the final stages of labour - are you coming down here or not?"
"Yup! I'll be right there." Click!
"I'll just finish this level, then I can save and switch off. Damn, where did he come from? Continue? You bet! Take that, alien slime! Oops, didn't expect that..."

In the maternity ward:
"Isn't he lovely?"
"Yeah, he sure is. Look, sorry I didn't make it. Puncture, you know. Ahem."
"Gosh, you certainly drive over some nails, darling."
"I think the local kids have got it in for me. I hear them shouting 'Geek' all the time."
"It's all in your mind. Have a good look at your son - he's perfect."
"So he is." Thinks, "Yay! He's got two thumbs!"