So we got a VCR to replace the defunct one lamented in yesterday’s post.
Joey became his happy, smiley self. The anxiety that he shared so generously with mom and dad last night went away.
I did try to show him the control panel differences on the new contraption, but he just said, “Bye, DAAD?!?!?!?!?,” which is Joey-speak for “I’d like to tinker with this for myself.” So we know his Y-chromosomal stuff works.
But the quiet was short lived. No, he wasn’t in our room vocalizing distress. Instead, he sat in his room flipping around VHS cassettes and popping them in and out of the machine, enjoying short clips from as many as he could.
The noise was about as insufferable as the nagging from the night before.
But he got his fill and he’s now sleeping in the glow of old TV through which the videos show. I’ll go to bed if I can unwind.