Having a Kid Changed How I Played Video Games Forever

Video games never taught me patience. But when I realized my anxiety was getting picked up by my kid, I decided to learn patience for both of us.

I’m open to running—and paying for!—more pitches at Crossplay, even from those without a byline. I’m more interested in life experience than work experience. Drop me an email. -pk

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My son is curious about everything. He wants to know what I’m doing, reading, and playing. When he was three years old, I bought him Yoshi’s Crafted World for Switch as a gift. It’s is the perfect introductory game, because if the platforming is too hard, he can jump on my back and I can handle that part and let him toss eggs and work on his aiming skills. At the time, he had no clue what a video game was, and I was so excited.

What happened next, however, was discovering that as someone who has been doing this for 35 years, my patience was shockingly thin. My son couldn’t keep up, couldn’t do what I wanted him to, and couldn’t even get through a level, despite infinite lives.

When my wife played with him, and I heard the way that he was teaching her to play it, it sounded very much like me. He was agitated they weren’t “always winning.” It was hard to hear my frustrations out of his mouth, and that’s when I knew I needed to change not only the way that I gamed with him—but my approach to playing, as well.

Patience is something that isn’t developed when gaming solo. You’re met with frustrations, anger, and agitation that can only be stifled by winning. You don’t have patience with yourself or squad mates. A lack of patience with my son, thankfully, didn’t deter him, but it did make him a frustrated gamer who would also get agitated by failure, even failure that he, with limited experience, couldn’t fully comprehend.

I implemented a policy where I would let him set the goal of the play session. He wanted to get the Sundream Stone back to Yoshi’s Island, but didn’t need to do it fast! Sometimes, it’s just fun to throw an egg at every paper cup seagull to get coins.

We later tried Alba and Little Mouse’s Encyclopedia—fun despite a reading barrier. As I sprinkled games like Mario Kart 8, I didn’t expect gaming would become “our” hobby.

When The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom came out in 2023, my son was four years old. I thought it would be fun to take him to the store, and go through the pomp and circumstance of buying a physical copy of the game. As a “COVID kid,” going to stores was still a novel concept, and a dedicated gaming store blew his mind. With no prior knowledge of Zelda, he wasn’t interested in playing…but he was curious.

“What happened next was discovering that as someone who has been doing this for 35 years, my patience was shockingly thin. My son couldn’t keep up, couldn’t do what I wanted him to, and couldn’t even get through a level, despite infinite lives. When my wife played with him, and I heard the way that he was teaching her to play it, it sounded very much like me.”

At first, I kept him away until I realized it wasn’t too scary. But after the first session, he wanted to do nothing more than sit and help me solve shrines. But what was even more surprising was how good he was at them. “Dad just teleport up” was something I heard a lot early in the game. A lot of the time, his simple advice was right.

In Rito village, we discovered Tulin. Tulin was a kid, could fly, helped us, and traveled with us?! My son was hooked. Tears of the Kingdom became his obsession. Mario Kart’s reign was over; he just wanted to watch Link explore Hyrule.

As someone who travels for work, I spend hours playing my Switch. It’s the one thing I do on airplanes. But I found myself playing Tears of the Kingdom a little differently.

On the road, I found myself bookmarking spots. “Oh, he’ll like this shrine” or “oh, I bet he would like to do this puzzle.” My progress halted because I was avoiding story elements and side quests that I thought he would enjoy. Eventually, the only place I wanted to explore by myself was The Depths, as my son had deemed them “too scary.”

Suddenly, the game I had been anticipating for years was released, and I was only exploring the “too scary” depths so we could share the main game together. If I’d kept playing, he never would have known what he’d missed—but I would. Instead of beating my Game of the Year in three months like many of my friends, I played in 30-minute increments over 18 months. One chunk at a time, my son and I beat it together.

For Christmas, I got him a Tears of the Kingdom player’s handbook.

He poured over it in his free time, and told me where enemies were and how to get treasure chests. His reading comprehension improved from sounding out items and names. While looking for dragons, he would pull up the maps of their flight trajectories in the handbook. It even gave him comfort and reassurance about our surroundings when we had to go into the “too scary” depths for parts of the game.

On days I couldn’t commit to playing, I would make a personalized save file, and let him practice fighting, weapon-making, and, of course, cooking. He became so proficient that he became my “cooking helper,” and would make food for me before difficult bosses. All he asked in return was being allowed to control Link at times, and mess around at temple entrances. (Because he knew enemies wouldn’t bother him.) 

This confidence carried over and for his sixth birthday this past August, where, per the recommendations of Crossplay, he got the Paw Patrol game and beat his first game from start to finish with no help! What an accomplishment for him! He was so proud. 

Around the same time, we also finally finished Tears of the Kingdom—together.

Earlier this year, my son clicked on the trailer for The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom. Like Patrick’s daughter, he wanted that bed, and talked like it was the Master Sword. For a moment, it was our usual setup: me playing the game and him watching. 30 seconds later, his hands were resting atop mine, and I let him have the controller.

Now, he’s the one playing Echoes of Wisdom on his own, only asking help when he gets intimidated by an enemy, boss, or fast-paced situation he can’t quite accomplish on his own. I was also excited to play it! And in another time, I would have.

But I prefer how I get to play it in this world today, with the wonder and excitement offered only through the eyes of my son.

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