How do I love thee, Pokemon? Let me count the ways.
You’ve captured Little Man’s interest and made him feel like a big kid. He trades cards with neighbors, huddled quietly around binders and bins at the park. He listens and learns from bigger boys. They treat him like an insider, not caring that he makes his own rules. My mom-heart is full.
No longer do I fret about bribes for good behavior. The hidden deck of Pokemon in my desk drawer ensures our toy room will be clean all summer long. And doling out cards is better than nagging, more effective than threats. You, Pokemon, are a secret weapon in my mom arsenal.
You take up little space in my cluttered, child-centered home. I don’t need enormous plastic tubs or an ambitious shelving system to display Little Man’s cards. He carries a small binder of precious Pokemon. They go to the park, in the car, upstairs and down. All day and all night they are with him.
When I step on a Pokemon card, it sticks, begging me to pick it up, to love it a little more. It does not slice my foot like the stabilizers of a die-cast jet airplane or imprint my skin like a lego. Bad words do not fly from my mouth when I step on a card. Even under foot, Pokemon are friendly.
Someday in the future Little Man will move on to other hobbies, other collections. Then, fine Pokemon, I will love you more. Because you, unlike any other toy he’s loved, are 100% recyclable. Our affair will not go public at a yard sale or thrift shop, laid bare for the neighbors to see. Our love will not end on Craigslist. It will end quietly, like it began. In secret.
This post inspired by a prompt from Mama Kat (3. Do you love it or hate it? An open letter to your child's latest obsession) and by Little Man's love of Pokemon.