Yet, I find myself on the couch, phone in hand while I slide jelly beans across the screen.
The worst part is that I’ve turned my kids into Candy Crush addicts. Forget leftover Halloween candy, the three of us gorge ourselves on virtual reproducing chocolates which we agree would be cool in real life but are annoying when trying “clear the jellies”. We race each other through levels and crow with victory. We comfort each other when our broken heart tells us we have to wait a half hour for another life.
I try to console myself that this new found—yes, new—addiction will surely go away and at least we’re facing it together. Communal Candy Crush is quality time, right?
So far, the data looks dismal for facing Candy Crush addiction. Friends have apparently been playing it over a year. We missed the first onslaught because we are not only hopelessly behind all trends, but because I was confused. I thought it was just another version of the similarly hyped Bejeweled of a few years ago.
I hope, at some point, we’ll get bored with the game. And I hope, at some point, my children will not need therapy for their mother induced addiction. In the meantime, I’m thankful for the forced stop every couple of days while we complete quests. We’d never get anything done otherwise.
