Yesterday, I took my son to the local library, where he attends a weekly storytime. This week, the kids were going to have an Easter egg hunt in the grassy area outside the building. All the parents were asked to bring in a dozen or two plastic eggs. While Miss Stephanie read a pair of books to the little ones, she sent us outside to "hide" the eggs.
Upon returning inside to help escort the children to the scavenging site, I noticed through the window something that amazed me. About a dozen kids - probably in the neighborhood of 8-10 years old had sprinted over from the nearby playground (it is Spring Break in our local school system) and, at the exhortation OF THEIR PARENTS, who were running along behind them, were collecting as many of these plastic shells as possible.
Later, as we marched outside with baskets in tow, we passed the row of computer stations inside the library. One person sat sending an e-mail. The next was clearly doing research on a government site. Yet another was searching the want ads. The image on the final monitor almost made me cry.
Yes, this woman had made a special pilgrimage to the library so she could make sure her crops didn't wither on Farmville.
Upon returning inside to help escort the children to the scavenging site, I noticed through the window something that amazed me. About a dozen kids - probably in the neighborhood of 8-10 years old had sprinted over from the nearby playground (it is Spring Break in our local school system) and, at the exhortation OF THEIR PARENTS, who were running along behind them, were collecting as many of these plastic shells as possible.
"Get them, Jimmy! Over there, Susie! Hurry! Hurry!"
Seriously? You see a bunch of adults place eggs in a grassy area, and decide that this is an opportunity for what - collecting a handful of jelly beans? Really? This makes sense to you somehow? Apparently, Miss Stephanie was a veteran of this rodeo, and had previously dispatched a fellow librarian to play "Egg Sheriff" outside, and she made the interlopers drop their ill-gotten merchandise, and chased them all away before our kids could witness the scene of the carnage.Later, as we marched outside with baskets in tow, we passed the row of computer stations inside the library. One person sat sending an e-mail. The next was clearly doing research on a government site. Yet another was searching the want ads. The image on the final monitor almost made me cry.
Yes, this woman had made a special pilgrimage to the library so she could make sure her crops didn't wither on Farmville.
We're all doomed, I tell you. Doomed!
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