The Good, The Bad, and The Television

The morning sun timidly peaks over the horizon, greeting the hills and mountains of the Wenatchee valley.  It is summer.  The fresh dew on the grass anticipates an imminent disturbance from children newly freed from their educational pursuits.   A smiling Columbia River invites all to come and refresh.  Bask in the glory of nature.  All the while, my brother, Cole, plays Call of Duty on his Xbox 360.  I plant myself firmly on the couch, glued to my computer, looking for new music. My sister is downstairs aimlessly Instagramming.  None of us have said more than four words to each other this morning, but this is routine for a Saturday. We will go on like this until our parents decide to wake up and fight the good fight.  My mother comes up stairs, comments on the beautiful day and starts listing all the activities she has planned.  Cole and I cast a look at our screens so forlorn one might think it was our mother's milk from which we were being separated. We are one in thought. "Why would she do this to us?  What did we do to deserve this?  We are not hurting anyone, why can't we just do this all day?"  She is firm in her resolve, "Come on kids, we have to go weed the garden, then we can all go on a hike up Castle Rock."  We consent with an "Uuuuggggg."