Pokemon = Aw-mum

I am officially the Best Mum Ever. No really, I am. I have it on good authority.  Not only from my son but another mum told me so too.

And I have Pokémon™ to thank for it. Yes those little Pocket Monsters helped me evolve into an Awesome Mum (in the spirit of manga that translates to Aw-mum).

See, my little boy’s been desperate to own a copy of either HeartGold or SoulSilver for his DS® ever since they were released in September 2009, so he’s been a pretty patient lad.

But with the family budget being what it is (or isn’t to be more accurate), I just can’t justify spending $70 on one little game.

They finally went on an unbeatable special in the big toy sale, so I dutifully lined up at the entertainment counter first thing in the morning on opening day, along with all the other parents stocking up on electronic Christmas presents.

Only 37 minutes later I reached the head of the line and enquired whether I was so lucky as to have either version of the game still in store. Both were, and since the price of two was less than half the regular price of one- and since my son had failed to decide which particular game he was most desperate to own- I got one of each.

I was tossing up about whether to hide them until December 25^th, or go ahead and make his day when the little bugger beat me to it and just ‘happened’ to find both versions of the game in my bag (I reckon he’d make a pretty good detective, having the uncanny ability to discover things in alleged plain sight).

Anyway, having put him through the agony of deciding which game he wanted most (HeartGold for those playing along at home), I then did the unthinkable and told him he could now wait for it, since he spoiled the surprise.

After a full day’s sulking (him, not me), we managed to come to a compromise once he realized he had almost enough money saved up to buy the thing off me; with a little more negotiating for a pay-as-you-play kind of arrangement whereby I withhold his weekly pocket money until he’d reached the full amount.

Deal done, he settled down to play, and started adding said monsters to said pockets over the course of the weekend.

Come Monday I disappointed him again by banning him taking the toy to school (hey, it’s my job isn’t it). I mean to say, he’d waited so long to get it I wanted it to last a little longer than lunchtime in the playground!  We again reached a compromise and I promised to wear the Pokéwalker™ as I went to work.

I took over 3000 steps the first day I took it for a walk.

And 5000 steps the next.

Which apparently translates into a lot of watts, which in turn means more power for the Pokémon to play.

I even inadvertently ‘found’ some soda and other refreshments, and was thrilled (not to mention shocked) to see the message “You got it!” on the little screen during one of my walks. (Translated: I managed to capture another Pokémon, without even trying. Yay me.)

I have the thing duly strapped to me again today. But since I’m spending the day at home doing housework and other exciting adventures I don’t think I’ll beat my record thus far. Then again you’d be surprised just how much ground one can cover just wandering around.

Which brings me to my original claim of being the Best Mum Ever. My son is stoked that his monsters get fed and exercised while he’s hard at work at school, and another mother declared herself most impressed at what I was doing for my child.

But hey, I figure if I can’t afford every electronic marvel that gets put out these days, and have to play mean mum from time to time, the least I can do is pop a Pokémon in my pocket and rack up the brownie points along with the steps I take during the day.

And when your kids think you are the Best Mum Ever, well, that’s priceless isn’t it.

 

Jx

©2011

Batteries Not Included

At the risk of sounding old here, things sure have changed since I was a kid.

Give us some chalk, a flat concrete surface, and other minor props, and we could entertain ourselves for hours… hopscotch, handball, even just letting our imagination run riot and create temporary masterpieces on the family carport.

It was humble, but we were happy.

And wasn’t mum happier still when the rain would eventually wash the canvas clean, given some of our artwork.

Yes when I was young, even the girls were content to take toy cars to school and we spent hours in the playground creating roads, housing estates, and entire back-stories for the little pencil-eraser-people we shoved into any cars with opening doors. (The boys, on the other hand, were more intent on seeing how many they could simply smash!)

And now- smack bang in the middle of the school holidays- I am reminded yet again how different life is, and these days almost every kid I know is completely ensconced in some electronic device. To the point where some might just have to have them surgically removed!

Unfortunately, they all seem to need to own said gaming gear, lest they miss out on a vital part of childhood and do irreparable damage to their developing psyches.

Oh and heaven forbid you buy the wrong one- it can instantly ostracise your child in the playground, and potentially lead to years of therapy. That’s despite the fact that the average game console costs the equivalent of a small car, and the price of a single game is more than what we used to get in a whole year of pocket money!

My Beloved and I held off as long as we could in getting a new console, using the excuse that the good ol’ PlayStation® had life in her yet. And she did, but naturally chose the exact period our son had another lengthy stay at hospital and home, to finally expire. (Lucky for us, it coincided with a mighty good ‘runout’ special on a PS2® and we were back in business.)

Now, as much as I hate to admit it (and here I go showing my age again), there are certain games that I just cannot figure out for the life of me - or for even my 5 or 6 'lives' granted to complete the virtual quest. (I am convinced though, that some of the characters are suicidal masochists in the way they insist on launching themselves off every available ledge or into the path of every incoming missile, or at least they always do whenever I’m playing.)

Mind you, it’s not just the little boys who love their toys. My Beloved is every bit as addicted as the younger ones, and just as competitive too. He has even resorted to commandeering the console and practicing his moves while I am busy packing our progeny off to bed, just so he can rub it in next time they meet on the multimedia. Or at least give them a good run for their money.

I must also confess that after one too many humiliations at the hands of my family, I happily if not humbly retreat to my laptop to squeeze in a few rounds of ‘FreeCell’. Sure that little King watches my every move (in our version), but at least he doesn’t laugh uproariously at me when I lose.

*sigh*

Give me a stick of chalk anyday...

Jx
©2009