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It’s impossible to walk down the sidewalk without stumbling over someone engrossed in Pokémon Go, but still, I was surprised when my mom texted me about it a mere four days after it launched. (She's still getting the hang of emojis.) Though the game obviously can't compare to Pokémon Red, everyone (including Trevor Noah) is stocking up on Pokéballs—and now even my own mom is setting out on the path to Viridian City.
But that doesn’t mean she understands how to play. Was explaining the phenomenon to my dear mother more infuriating than dealing with crazy obsessed New Yorkers? You decide:
So it begins.
She bought me my berry-pink Game Boy Color when I was nine years old, so I feel obligated to answer her questions now. Also, if she had asked me, I would've suggested the highly underrated Bulbasaur (it's No. 1 for a reason) over the bratty "Squirtly."
Forget Magikarp—she will travel across the land for the best spots for a Gyarados.
Oh no, she’s venturing into the wild. The park is the ideal place to snag those Grass types, though.
You’re supposed to be at work, Mom.
Stop acting like Ash Ketchum.
She’s getting competitive about something she can’t spell. Translation: Pidgeotto. Should I be proud that I knew that? (Don't answer that.)
So I might be a little jealous. How embarrassing would it be if my own mother beats me at Pokémon Go? I wanna be the very best.
A not-so-humble brag.
Oh, so one day goes by and suddenly she’s a Pokémon Master? Fine, I’m listening…. Next thing you know she's going to want to go on a Pokémon bar crawl with me.
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