Pokemon Gone Wrong

We have a problem in our house, it's of the Japanese, anime style and it's called Pokemon (if you don't know much about pokemon, it's worth investigating if only so you can understand my pain and prevent the sickness from invading your house). It started with some trading cards - no actually I think it started with some playground discussions which evolved (pardon the pokemon pun) into the trading cards and then again into the TV show. At Christmas it showed up under the tree as a Nintendo DS and a Pokemon Diamond and Pearl game. Dammit Santa! Anyway, suddenly it's everywhere in my house. Which would be ok, if it were just me, my husband and the eight year old. And I would even be alright with it if it were the three of us plus the five year old. But the pokemon obsession has taken hold of my two year old - my sweet baby-doll loving, dress-up wearing, cuddly two-year old.

Focus here, this is my last baby, and she is obsessed with pokemon!

Anyway, this morning she told us that when she grows up to be "Dawn" - the girl hero of pokemon (not to be confused with feminist-type girl heroes, just the one of the three main human characters that happens to be a girl), she will have a piplup (a penguinesque creature). Actually what she told me first was that when she grows up to be a gym leader she'll have a piplup. Gymnasiums are where most of the pokemon battles take place and the gym leader is the top trainer at each gymnasium (for some reason this all reminds me of karate kid).

Yes, on its face this isn't all that disturbing, preschoolers pretend things all the time. But my little one isn't pretending to go on a picnic or ride a unicorn, she's deeply engaged in complex and imaginary battles in which she plays one of two roles. The first is the role of an unsupervised preteen wandering the Japanese countryside with a gang of other unsupervised preteens (one who is named Brock and is some sort of an oversexed, undersatisified chef) in search of a mythical city inhabited by ever-evolving monsters and their "trainers". I should be honest and tell you that these kids aren't entirely free of adult supervision. Every now and again they do seek the counsel of various professors, an army of sexy nurses named Joy, and sometimes they even skype with their parents back at home. The second role is that of an actual pokemon. When in this character she runs about making shooting type noises and holding her hand, palm forward, as if something were shooting out of it. She is helpful enough to explain these noises as she is making them by yelling things like "Piplup use bubblebeam!" in her tiny voice. Both types of pretend play are equally disturbing, but the latter is definitely more embarrassing when it emerges in such peace- loving- hippie-hangouts as the produce section of Whole Foods.

I've grown used to this behavior, although through this post I readily admit I have not completely accepted it, but today was the first day I figured out how to leverage the fantasy to my advantage. You see today was the last day of this semester of Little Gym (the $400 tumbling class that lasts for 20 weeks, but in which your child is terrified the first six, interested the next three and then utterly bored for the remaining three months). On the last class of the last semester the children put on a "show" and invite guests to come and watch all they can (but refuse to) do. My daughter had two guests coming this morning, her lovely grandparents, and absolutely no interest in going to Little Gym. That is until I pointed out that she would be going to a gym and not only would she be going to a gym, she would be bringing home a medal just like Dawn on pokemon. That kid was ready to go in no time.

Now I just have to wait until my daughter rejects Dick and Jane in favor of Manga.