I blame my mother-in-law.

Prior to Christmas, my wife’s mother announced that she was going to purchase a Wii (pronounced we) for our boys.

For the uninitiated, the Wii is a video game console made by Nintendo. Unlike many other video gaming systems, the Wii is interactive. Rather than sit and operate a joy stick, the Wii is equipped with a wireless handheld controller that detects movement in space. Players get to create characters, called a Mii (me), which mimic your movement in real time. When you swing, the Mii swings. It really is quite amazing. But it is still a video game system.

My wife and I blanched. We had been very clear that we were not interested in having any video games in our home. We have seen far too many children sitting for hours in front of the television set, addicted to video gaming, avoiding the real world in favor of joysticks and imaginary characters. These kids become lazy, anti-social and fat opting to play video basketball instead of real basketball or Madden football instead of getting some guys together to play a rigorous game of touch in the street.

Yeah, I know. Video games give kids a chance to practice motor skills, follow directions and solve problems. What is more, they are entertaining.

Call me old school. But in my day, we used to get those benefits by going outside to play. My friends and I were outdoors all the time. We walked to the community center to swim or play basketball. We scraped up spare change and rode our bikes to the drug store to buy soda and gum. When the weather didn’t permit us to go outside, we made up games or wrestled on the floor until our mothers yelled at us to take the roughhousing into the basement. And yes, we watched television, but always we talked -- telling lies and spreading misinformation about girls. That is what teenage boys are supposed to do.

I spent some time with my nephews a while back and sat in amazement as their home filled with teenage boys. It was the quietest afternoon in the history of adolescence. A room filled with teenage boys and no one spoke. There were no comments about teenage girls, no jokes about farting, no arguments about Shaq versus Kobe, just silence and the working of the joystick.

Yet, grandmothers have a way of getting what they want. My mother – in- law looked at us with huge brown, sad puppy dog eyes – the kind of look grandmothers learn to give that no parent can resist – and we broke down. At least, we reasoned, the Wii will keep them active.

Surprisingly, after the initial novelty wore off the kids don’t play with the Wii that often. They have resorted to their old habits of going outside to play, riding their bikes and building inventions in the garage (read making an ungodly mess). Of course, that may be because their father is so busy playing on the game that they can’t get access. I am hooked! And I blame my mother-in-law.

I knew there might be a problem when I was rushing the kids to bed early so I could get in a few more holes of golf. “Daddy, its only 7 o’clock.” “Quiet! I don’t want you to be tired in the morning.”

I hear you asking the logical question of why I can’t simply play Wii with my kids. It’s a perfectly reasonable question. I have a perfectly reasonable answer. Because the Wii makes me a crazy person. During tennis, I am grunting like Serena Williams. During golf, I am yelling at them for distracting me during my shots. During baseball, I am grabbing my crotch and spitting on the carpet. My wife, of course, doesn’t understand any of this. She thinks I have lost my mind. And I have.

I tell her to look on the bright side. I am practicing motor skills, using problem solving and logic, learning to follow directions and entertaining myself, and she has her mother to thank for it.

Joseph C. Phillips is the author of “He Talk Like A White Boy” available wherever books are sold.