It all started with the bookfair. Last year, I sent my 4 year old son to pre-school with 5 or 10 dollars to buy something with his class. He came home with a book about Pokèmon characters. My son was in the habit of carrying his current favorite possession every where he goes, so I didn’t think anything of it when the new book accompanied him to bed, to meals, safely tucked under him in his chair at dinner, to baseball games, and just about everywhere. This went on for about two weeks. The book was tattered and bent within the first few days, and it looked like it had been around forever. At night when putting him to bed, or during the day, he would ask me to read a few pages from the book.
As time went by, he stopped carrying the book everywhere, but still always knew where it was. One day in the toy store, we picked up a small package of Pokèmon cards. When we got home, him and his brother, not knowing how to play the real game, invented their own version, and acted it out. They talked about Powers, and Pikachu's, and all kinds of things.
The Pokèmon cards were kept safely in a drawer, but accessed often, and very popular with the boys. At some point, they became lost in our house, a phenomenon that is not completely foreign to us, as every so often a sneaker, or a library book, or something coveted will mysteriously disappear. Anyway, when Christmas time came around, Santa brought the boys each a Pokèmon trainer deck, and my son (now 5) a Pikachu stuffed animal. So the day after Christmas, Dad sat with the boys, read the rules, and explained the game. He helped them play a few rounds. He seemed to have fun, and I was glad that the boys were playing together, and I had nothing to do with it.
That night however, wanting to be able to play with another grown up, he said he wanted me to play a game with him. I reluctantly agreed, hoping it would be over soon, so I could go to bed. But when we started playing, a funny thing happened, and I actually enjoyed the game! It was fun. I wanted to win. I got competitive. Over the next few days of Christmas vacation, my husband and I played a few more games. Then one night, he and the boys came home and stuck something under the tree. “I got you something,” my husband said. We put the youngest to bed, and then I opened it, I was my own Pokèmon deck. I was feeling a little silly, but strangely excited, this was not a trainer deck, it was a real deck, and it was mine. That night, we tried it out. He used one of the kid’s decks and I used my new deck. It was far superior. I liked it! I won most of the games.
Every time we got a new deck, my husband checked the value of each card. He found a few that were worth a few dollars, and put them aside. A few days after giving me my deck, he came home with a deck of his own. Then we played each other with our decks to try them out together. His new deck was pretty powerful, and quite superior to mine. I didn’t stand a chance. We played a few more games, and talked about how we could really get into this, and buy individual special cards, and spend a lot of time on it. He mentioned that there are Pokèmon tournaments, with real serious players. We decided that we would not be buying any more cards, or spending any more money on the game, but still, we saw how fun it could be. Soon after, his vacation ended, and he went back to work. We stopped playing Pokèmon. But the kids still like it, and ask us to play with them, or they play a game together. Mostly, they just act it out, and play their imagination games, my younger son holding his Pikachu. On school library day, the kids sometimes bring home Pokèmon books from school. Pikachu rides to school in my sons backpack every day, and comes out every night, and is thrown around and played with. So, all in all, the kids are crazy for Pokèmon. And I can’t really blame them!
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