Our poor old VCR quit working. Really the silly thing wasn’t that old–only a few years. I guess they don’t make machines like they used to. Back when we bought it to replace our old one, I remember being shocked at the price. $60 for a new VCR, when we were being told that they would soon be obsolete? Huh? Who had the bright idea to gouge people’s pocketbooks like that?
Well, as you can see, our $60 plastic box didn’t last. Before letting it leave the house, Daddy pried it open with the boys and let them examine its innards. He also deigned to plug it in sans protective plastic cover, much to my chagrin. Hello–electrocution?! As I stood watch like a hawk to make sure no fingers or metal objects wandered into the dangerous box, Daddy showed the boys how the video was opened and the tape fed through to be read. It was interesting; I had no idea how it really worked inside.
Son 1 removed a few pieces of the VCR once it was unplugged. That’s all we did with it, though. Come to think of it, where did it end up? Probably in a box in the basement. A year from now I’ll open an unlabeled, lonely diaper box sitting forlornly on a shelf and there will be our old friend, Mr. VCR.