Keep in mind, mom and dad have no idea about Orbital, the arcade game I am building. They've known I've wanted an arcade game almost from the day I first saw one. Something like, oh, I don't know, Pac-Man.
"You know, Peter," my dad says, "I'm kind of surprised you don't have a Pac-Man machine by now."
"Are they expensive?" asks my mom.
Nah, you can get one in decent shape for $500-700.
"Do you pick it up yourself, or can they ship it?" my dad asks.
It'd go freight, which will tack on a minimum of $300 to the price. Better to look local and pick it up yourself.
"And what? Rent a Uhaul?" my mom asks.
Or a truck from Menards. Put a tarp on it, strap it down, and off you go.
"How tough are they to find around you?" my mom asks.
"Well, Peter," my dad says, "we were just thinking that a Pac-Man machine would be the perfect Christmas gift for you."
"We know you'd love it and appreciate it," my mom chimes in.
I'm staring at the phone like it's radioactive. My parents, who spent years trying to get me out of video games, who refused to let me go to computer camp back in school, who ask why I need so many game consoles, are actually talking about buying me a Pac-Man machine for Christmas. No gotchas, no joke.
If I need any further proof that things are changing between me and my parents, this is it.