I have previously written about my adventures with the Xbox Kinect, which have tested my patience. Well, this is a sequel to that article, and everyone knows the stakes are higher in a sequel.

The Xbox Kinect uses a camera to convert your body into controller actions. This 2010 technology seemed like the future of gaming. By 2016, however, it will be dead and buried—and for good reason. The technology produces games that range from pretty good to throwing your TV through a wall. This frustration amplifies 100% when you add a kindergartener.

Speaking of falling.

Let’s talk about setting up a Kinect game. First you need a room that is roughly the size of a small gym. Standing anything further than 8 feet away severly offends the Xbox Kinect and it will remind you that you should have purchased a house with more floor space. After you stand at the proper distance, the Kinect needs to map out who is standing in front of it. If one person is standing in front of the camera, the Kinect will successfully say “There is one person standing in front of me.” However, if two people are standing in front of the camera, the Kinect thinks there is a mutated humanoid squid with arms growing out of its back. It’s a vast difference.

Now for the actual games. Disney produced a few exclusive Kinect games for the Xbox 360. Its most notable gems are Disneyland Adventures, Disney Rush, and Fantasia. Disneyland Adventures, as explained in another article, is Satan’s favorite tool for punishing the wicked. But, even with that game’s faults, Disney Rush with a Kindergartener is eight more circles of Perdition. The people hell cannot handle are given Disney Rush with a 4-year-old.

My son is a bright and clever child. He will surely bless the world with his gifts. But when you add his agility, apprehension, and dexterity to a game that is already broken, then nightmares abound. In Disney Rush, you can run by pumping your arms and turn by twisting your body. It’s no exaggeration that his character looks like a drunk man during an earthquake. His doom is imminent when the game presents tiny ledges and pitfalls. If this were a real Disney park, the lawsuits would be higher than a house.

All that would be fine if both of us could do our thing and beat the levels separately. But Disney would not allow that gentle compassion (and now I know why some people think they are the anti-Christ). BOTH OF US must work together during the levels to solve a puzzle. As a 42-year-old, I struggle with this game, but eventually make it to the platform or the switch. My son, bless his ADD heart, is spinning around like a tornado, playing the level backwards, or stuck in a glitch. Even when he can catch up, there is no hope that he will be in the right spot, so we can solve the stupid puzzle.

How old I feel after I play this game.

“Timothy, move left. Move left! Move left!”

(Timothy spins around 80 times)

“Go forward! Okay stop! Why did you fall off that ledge?”

(Timothy starts dancing)

“For the love of all that is good, just stand still!”

(Timothy runs a marathon)

After about 10 minutes of spinning, crashing, and backtracking, the game finally has mercy and lets you skip the puzzle. This is the merciful bullet to the suffering animal. Disney could have made the levels–I don’t know–more playable, but the option to be spared from the torture is nice. After my blood pressure drops, I must revert back to using my calm dad voice.

But that is an excellent parable for parenting. Whether I like it or not, my son will be my co-op partner for life. He follows me through the mazes and adventures. He will play the game as well as his kindergarten faculties will allow him. I cannot plow past him and beat the level as a father. I need to be patient, cool-headed, and persistent in my mentoring. I can’t jump inside his body and play it for him, either. The Xbox doesn’t like that. He only has my instructions to guide him. I could beat the stupid Disney game in a night, but when I am playing with my son, which is for his benefit, I need to be stuck where he is stuck.

Following Jesus feels like the exact same thing, except I am the kindergartener spinning around 80 times, and Jesus is the one who wants me to show kindness or compassion. Jesus knows how to save the world with perfect justice, righteousness, and law, but he chooses to be stuck with me as I figure out life’s puzzles. I know my progress must be frustrating, and I wish Jesus would jump into my body and do all the right things, but all I have are the instructions he gave me.

Thank you, God.

Want to hear my devotionals and stories about pop culture? Read The Checkpoint Devotional: Year One.