Clearing out an attic, someone we know found a computer, a keyboard, and a mouse. The kind with a little plastic ball inside. Somehow, my 11-year-old son laid claim to it.
This afternoon, he got it hauled up to his room, where he connected it to a monitor that came with a now-defunct computer, and hadn't been discarded.
That old computer works! It seems to have Windows 95 on it, and thought that it was still January 0f 1980. My son straightened it out as to what century it's at, and has been having a high old time, working out how to make it boot the way he wants it to.
I've enjoyed several hours when I didn't have to pull rank to get at the computer I use for most of my work. Convenient: but, as with most things in this world, it's a mixed blessing.
We know who first owned the computer, so I don't have to worry (too much) about what sort of software is on it. With a computer to work with, my son may be less gung-ho about getting a laptop of his own now, although I'm not counting on it. And, since this clunker hasn't been earmarked for any projects in this household, he can experiment without risking anyone else's work.
On the other hand, A computer in his room is very close the edge of what's permitted in this house. I think that within 48 to 72 hours, he'll get the idea of adding a wireless modem to the thing. That's when he'll learn about our Internet policy (no kid-used connections outside open, general-use areas).
Finally, it's one more thing in a household that my wife is trying to make relatively clutter-free. She wasn't exactly overjoyed when this digital anachronism appeared. I don't blame her: I've got mixed feelings about the thing, myself.
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