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We have avoided the craze, mostly because Hubby did not see the merit in pretending to play an instrument that does not mimic a real instrument. "It's not like you will improve your guitar-playing skills if we buy it," was Hubby's reply to requests that we purchase the game.

My argument for not purchasing had to do with the expense. I have a hard enough time paying $40 for a video game that my children will play for two weeks until they are bored and move on to something else. The guitar game costs more than double that because you have to purchase the guitar controller.

We already have a basket full of various controllers, including the steering wheel and a couple of specialized joysticks. Considering that most of the controllers are merely gathering dust, why add to the clutter?

But my boys are persistent in their own ways. The youngest still uses the hound dog eyes and sad frown while begging. The middle child mentions the great report cards they all brought home, making the case that they've earned the game. My oldest child, the more experienced of the three, the one who knows us best, takes a more creative approach to swaying his parents.

Last weekend, he asked if he could walk to a neighbor's house. He would be back in 10 minutes. He just needed to borrow a game from his friend. While there was a sense of mischief in the air, I had no reason to say no. The kids in our neighborhood borrow games from each other all the time.

"OK, but be back in 10 minutes -- supper should be ready by then." I barely had the sentence out before he was out of the house and up the street. The mischief thickened.

After supper, I had to run to the store. Upon returning, I found my children and a few friends in the living room playing the guitar game. The guitar controller had four buttons, each brightly colored, on the neck. It was not unlike the toy guitar my 15-year-old had when he was 3. Without the sound the sight would have been hilarious.

But there was sound. As a matter of fact, the songs they were fake-playing were ones I enjoyed when I was 15. My kids were not learning how to play the guitar, but they were learning the songs and lyrics of my generation. I could live with that.

Hubby seemed mesmerized as well. Our teenagers were pretty good at the game. Surely Hubby, who has been playing guitar for decades, could handle this. "I thought you didn't like the fake-guitar game," I challenged Hubby, who was practically drooling as he waiting for his turn.

"Well, it's not like playing a real guitar, but it looks cool."

"But you aren't going to play it, right? I mean, what about your musical principles?"

"But it looks cool."

I rolled my eyes and then laughed when the game got the better of him on his first try. The boys did not laugh at Hubby. They strategically mentioned that he simply needed more practice. My oldest was the first to suggest that Hubby have another go at it.

When our youngest, who is usually chastised by his brothers when he is not super-successful at a video game, failed miserably on his first try, his brothers were supportive and helpful. They offered tips and gave him extra time. That was when I realized Hubby and I were being played by the master -- this was an appeal for purchasing the game.

We spent the entire weekend -- yes, I got sucked in as well -- pretend-playing '80s rock tunes. After hours of fun family time goofing around barely a step above air guitar, it was time to return the game.

In the end, my oldest made the most compelling case for the purchase of the guitar game without ever actually asking us to buy it. Who could argue with hours of entertainment for the whole family? For the first time since the video consoles hit the market, my kids wanted something that didn't involve war, blood, killing or monsters.

And I have to admit, the timing was perfect. As we prepare to take our seats around the turkey and dressing, yams with marshmallows, cranberry salad and pumpkin pie, I realize that I have cause to be truly thankful.

I am thankful that my children are learning to appreciate quality '80s rock music. I am thankful that when push comes to shove, my children can really pull together -- even if it was a grand scheme to get us to think about buying a game.

Most of all, I am truly thankful that I don't have to run out and buy the silly, expensive, fake-guitar game. I can let Santa take care of that.

Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com.