When I was 6, I remember packing my well-worn copy of the official Pokémon handbook in my backpack so I could read it (for the millionth time) during after-school care. I asked my second-grade crush on a date to see Pokémon The Movie 2000 in theaters (his name was Bradley, and I thought he was so cute). I watched and rewatched my three VHS tapes of Pokémon Indigo League, and collected more than my fair share of Pikachu merch. I was a Pokémon diehard like so many of us were in the late ‘90s and early 2000s.
And 30 years later, I’m happy to say my son is too.
My husband loved the animated series as much as I had growing up. So, for our son’s first Halloween, we dressed as Ash and Misty and put his chunky baby self in a fuzzy Pikachu costume (which was adorably fitting considering his big rosy pink cheeks). Minus a brief break to be Lightning McQueen at age 2, he has worn the same Charizard costume every year since.
At age 4, my son’s interest in Pokémon piqued when my mother-in-law unearthed my husband’s old collection of trading cards, and the two of them unlatched the little metal Zapdos box and flipped through each Pokémon card to read about their abilities and attacks. He quickly fell in love with the animated series; as the president and CEO of The Pokémon Company Tsunekazu Ishihara said during a panel at PokémonXP this year (because yes, we went), the show is a common point of entry for preschool-aged kids. Unlike the trading card game, they don’t have to learn battle strategy, or even be able to read, to fall in love with Pikachu, Psyduck, and all the other pocket monsters on their screen. The old-school animation and low resolution only add to the charm for us as parents.
We fed his obsession in any way we could. Instead of gritting our teeth through Blippi or Paw Patrol, we got to revisit the Kanto region and tell our son about watching these episodes on VHS tapes back in our day.
By 5, my son had a Pokémon-themed bedroom. We have the books, the toys, the sticker compendiums, and more. And I’m OK with every last bit of it, because it is just so stinking fun to give him things he’s excited about when I know how much they would have delighted me at his age too.
One of my favorite parts of our shared interest is getting to collect cards together. It was a part of the Pokémon world I just never got to do as a kid. Now, we love to visit our local card shop on the weekends and spend an hour or two just thumbing through their bulk sections, seeing if we can find cards by a favorite artist, or that one Eevee evolution we don’t have yet. The card shop employees know us by name; they clapped for my son when he finished his first week of kindergarten, and they bring him special cards from their personal collections as surprises.
Adult Pokémon fans all seem to remember that their fandom began in childhood, and they regularly go out of their way to share cards and little tokens to support my son’s interest. What a genuinely lovely community.
Over the summer, Pokémon cards are what kept my son happily entertained and off a screen. He organized and reorganized his collection: this time by type, the next time by some order only he understood. But the best was when he organized them by strength (signified by a number in the top right-hand corner of the cards), flexing his brain about whether 320 was greater or less than 280. Or when he’d lay the entire collection out on the floor and alphabetize them. The kindergarten-preparedness workbook I purchased sat untouched while he practiced all the same skills without realizing it.
I don’t know how long my kid will want nothing more than to wake up on a Saturday morning, get donuts, and go to the card shop with us. I don’t know how long he’ll think a Charizard jumpsuit with Velcro wings is as cool as it gets. But I’m so happy this fun, fantastical world of random plants and animals (and even some home appliances?) with superpowers is bringing my child and my inner child together after all these years.
​Â
