Okay. I’ll admit it. My husband and I were walking past Logan’s unoccupied room last night, saw the two guitars abandoned on the floor and had the same idea. Next thing I knew, we were strapping on our “axes” and doing our best rock star impersonations to Guitar Hero III. Had our kids seen us, they would have been hospitalized from laughing so hard.

After no time, I stepped in it up and held my own at the medium level. It got good-naturedly competitive; he “riffed” the best to Santana’s “Black Magic Woman,” but I smoked hubby on Aerosmith’s 1974 hit “Same Old Song and Dance.”

Honestly, I can understand why this game is so popular. We channeled our inner Jimi Hendrix and Joan Jett respectively, and bounced and bobbed our heads (perhaps a bit too) enthusiastically. We laughed until it hurt, and for about a half hour or so, felt like teenagers. That is until we stopped strumming, and I realized my shoulder throbbed, my neck ached and I needed help getting up.