The world has entered the era of smart phones.
With the inevitable advancement of technology, there has also been progress in entertainment, one of which is games.
This is the field that psychiatrists classify as ‘mental illness’ and seek to treat.
Caught in the whirlpool of the media’s demonization of games, parents often try to control their children’s gaming habits.
It is only natural that children, who are the complete victims, find themselves in an environment where they cannot even imagine microtransactions, let alone control their games.
In such a situation, something that will be valued far more than those ridiculous plastic toys.
“Really?!”
As expected, Juwon, sitting in the back seat, suddenly lifts his head at the mention of a ‘gift card’.
His reaction is far more explosive than when his mom asks what toy he wants.
Of course, boys think the same way.
Seemingly taken aback by this unexpected development, Senior Jiun looks flustered.
It appears that those toys are more costly, as she occasionally glances back at Juwon from the driver’s seat, trying to persuade him.
“No, Juwon, you said you wanted a robot toy last time.”
“Do I have to choose just one? Is it a gift card or a robot?”
In response, she rushes him to make a quick decision without thinking about the price.
While she would have bought him something that isn’t necessarily a robot, considering the conversation at the pizza place, it’s highly probable that they wouldn’t support any money for gaming.
“Um… gift card!”
“Oh my….”
As anticipated, Juwon chose the gift card, and Jiun sighed at his ultimately cheap decision.
She couldn’t go back on it when the child really wanted it.
After all, having come to a large discount store with plenty of toys, she finds it utterly incomprehensible that he chose a gift card.
“Why would you choose that gift card over all the great toys in the world?”
But what can she do?
As a parent, her feelings of loss are mingled with a few complaints.
This was a clear victory for the boys, who understand this better.
People who don’t play games will never understand.
Just like men can’t comprehend how women take hours choosing clothes in a department store, they come from different worlds of understanding.
“I don’t understand why they spend money on that game… Even my husband is utterly obsessed with it.”
As if this is not just a problem concerning Juwon, Senior Jiun continues with her complaints, even bringing up the uncle.
Strangely, she finds herself empathizing more with the uncle and Juwon than with Jiun, and to help slightly clarify, she points out the money aspect that women spend.
“Don’t you also have to spend money on things like cosmetics or bags?”
“Those are necessary, do you think it’s the same?”
In response, Senior Jiun argues that those are essential and therefore not comparable.
Just like men don’t look favorably on the money spent on bags and cosmetics, women do not appreciate the expense incurred from gaming.
There is no more fitting analogy, yet she does not seem to understand that.
“Hehe, it’s the same.”
Knowing that further persuasion would likely fall on deaf ears, I simply laughed and added that it’s the same.
As we chatted, we soon parked the car on the second basement floor.
After Jiun and I exited the driver and passenger seats, Juwon was led outside by Shiyeon.
Carefully, so as not to scratch the adjacent car.
Once the door slammed shut, we entered the store like a family.
The entrance to the food section, just like yesterday.
Shopping carts are neatly lined up with their 100 won openings blocked.
As Shiyeon skillfully took out a cart just like yesterday, Juwon rushed over eagerly.
“I want to ride here!”
He looks up, eyes sparkling with excitement, as she pulls the cart, clearly wanting the spot inside that can fit a child when the handle is pushed to lock in place.
Is he envious that he can still sit there?
Thinking about it, he did not have anyone to pull him around like that in his young years.
It is indeed a privilege that can only be enjoyed at such a young age.
“Juwon wants to ride in the cart? How cute.”
Shiyeon accepted his pure and greedy request.
She grabbed him under both arms, lifting him up to put him in the cart at her eye level.
I am still capable enough to lift a kindergarten kid.
However, due to my unfortunate height, the cart’s handle only just reaches my mid-chest, making it difficult to lift him up.
Inside the cart, Juwon kicks his legs, fully enjoying the privilege of youth.
Walking through the store, the old cart’s wheels clatter over the uneven floor as we enter the frozen food section.
“Please enjoy dumplings!”
The delightful spot filled with the aroma of food and the appealing shout of the tasting ladies.
While pushing the cart that Juwon sits in, it occasionally stops in front of frozen food sampling stations where he happily selects food.
While wandering around the frozen food section, he chews on the green starch toothpick.
“Mom! Buy this!”
“What is it, what is it? Tteokgalbi?”
Every time the sampling stations offer him food, the cart, which was empty, begins to fill up as long as it meets Juwon’s taste.
From refrigerated and frozen foods like pork cutlets, tteokgalbi, chicken nuggets, fried dumplings, and sausages to fresh produce like mackerel or pork belly.
Lettuce, perilla leaves, onions, zucchini, soybean paste, gochujang, and other vegetables and sauces.
Once Juwon, who was sitting in the cart, picked up a couple of items, the housewife’s shopping came to an end with a cart filled to the brim.
As I observed the cart filled with just Juwon’s foods, I asked Jiun amid the beeping of the register.
“Aren’t you buying anything for the uncle?”
“His taste is just like Juwon’s, so it’s fine.”
“Ah, I see.”
With a short sigh of understanding and acceptance, I placed the items from the register back into the cart.
It’s surprising that the uncle’s taste aligns with Juwon’s.
Anyway, I never get tired of tteokgalbi or chicken nuggets even as I grow older.
“141,320 won, do you have a point card?”
“Here you go.”
After finishing the transaction, Shiyeon pushed the shopping cart out of the checkout.
The three of us left our things first, then returned to the register to pay separately for the 50,000 won gift card I had prepared beforehand.
“50,000 won.”
“Yes.”
After hastily finishing the payment, we headed for the escalator that led back down.
On basement level one, there were a bunch of rough cardboard boxes and bright yellow tape stacked in the packaging area.
With the bottom of the boxes folded neatly and sealed with tape, the items—starting from frozen foods—were stacked inside one after another.
After squeezing everything in, I managed to fit everything from the cart into one box.
“Is Juwon doing a celebration?”
Finally, Shiyeon released Juwon from the cart, replaced by a large box.
Rolling along, the hefty shopping cart makes its way to the second basement level on the escalator.
We took the cart all the way to the parking lot, where we moved the box into the trunk.
With the cart now empty, I carelessly shoved it into the collection area near the store entrance and returned to the car.
“Thanks to you, I was able to do some shopping.”
Senior Jiun let out a breath that mixed relief and a sense of achievement, saying we completed one task.
After fastening her seatbelt as the engine started, she handed the gift card she had packed into her pocket back to the back seat.
“Juwon, here.”
“Wow-!”
Juwon accepted the gift card with a bright smile, clearly filled with joy.
He was already gleaming with ideas on how to use it for gaming.
Back in the day, when I received a cultural gift certificate worth 10,000 won, there was no joy like when I could spend it on in-game purchases.
…using it was over in an instant, though.
“Oh dear, is he that happy about it?”
“Because his mom doesn’t give it to him.”
“I really don’t get it, whether it’s children or adults, why they spend money on games—it’s such a waste.”
A current housewife lamenting how money spent on games seems very precious.
The continuation of the hazy conversation from earlier, it appears that she struggles to comprehend.
But I think gaming is a perfectly healthy hobby.
Of course, unless it’s a trash game with no return on investment.
“Still, isn’t it better than fishing or golfing? Just the basic equipment for those could cost hundreds, but you don’t spend that much, do you?”
“Well, that’s true…”
Since the analogy didn’t work earlier, I brought up other problematic hobbies at the same level.
It seems she finds that part somewhat agreeable now that money is mentioned, as she subtly starts to agree.
“Well, it’s not like I’m going to a hiking or running club to cheat….”
Casually dropping something she heard elsewhere, she subtly argues in favor of gaming as a ‘pure hobby.’
I just hope she acknowledges that gaming can be a healthy hobby.
“Look at this child, where did he hear that from?”
“It’s all over the Internet.”
