Milo's mom scooped him up and squeezed so tight his cheeks squished out like dough. "We have a surprise for you," she said, and his dad nodded from beside her. Milo's eyes went wide as saucers. He thought this had to be the best day ever.
His dad walked in carrying a big black box with shiny silver letters. Milo gasped — PS5 was printed right on the front. His mom grinned from the doorway, and Milo's fingers started twitching already, itching to get inside.
The lid came off with a satisfying pop, and there it was — the white console nestled inside. His dad plugged in the cables while Milo bounced on his toes. The TV flickered to life, and the Spider-Man logo swung onto the screen with a dramatic whoosh.
Milo grabbed the controller — it felt heavier than he expected. He pressed the button, and the game hummed awake. On the screen, Spider-Man leapt from rooftop to rooftop, zipping across the city with a swoosh that made Milo jump and then whoop with delight.
Spider-Man swung from building to building, and Milo leaned so far forward his nose nearly touched the glass. The living room seemed to dissolve into the game world — neon lights, wind, the sound of web-shooters firing. He did not move for a single second.
Milo swung Spider-Man from rooftop to rooftop, laughing out loud at every web-zip. His mom peeked into the room and smiled at the sight of him — one hand on the controller, the other gripping the sofa cushion, completely lost in the game.
Night crept in outside, but Milo did not notice. The Spider-Man game kept going, and he kept going with it — swinging, jumping, shooting webs. His dad brought in a plate of snacks and set it down quietly without saying a word. Milo just pointed at the screen and grinned.
Finally his mom called his name, and Milo blinked like he had just woken up. He looked at the clock and his jaw dropped. He had been playing for hours. He hugged both of them, still giggling, and promised he would play again tomorrow. The Spider-Man logo glowed on the screen one last time.