Thursday, March 9, 2017

The premise behind Pokémon defies reason, and I'm not talking about the adorable creatures that battle willingly on behalf of their trainers for sport. Nor am I referring to the fact said adorable creatures have a laudable command of the English language.

I'm talking about the shows main protagonist, Ash Ketchum, the plucky 10 year old who leaves home to become a Pokémon Master and no one bats so much as an anime eyelash. Did I mention he's 10?

I'm early 30's and I still can't fathom setting off into the sunset armed only with good intentions and an animal side kick who has all the predictability of a hairdryer submerged in a bath tub.

When Pokémon first hit our shores sometime in the mid-90s - my siblings and I were caught up in the craze (I can still recite more versus of the Pokémon Rap than is appropriate).

One of the great joys of parenthood is reliving parts of your own childhood.

So when Pokémon Go was released last year, that little child inside me did a dance. I could finally realise my dream of "catching 'em all" an...ahem...parental supervisor of course.

Before Gabby arrived I took Will in to the city on a Poké-Date.

We started in Devonport, catching the ferry across to Princess Wharf. Once city-side we stayed in a fairly narrow radius. We walked. We talked. We gathered  Poké-stops and caught Pokémon.

Say what you will about Pokémon Go but it bought out the best in people. Kids walking past us, cheered him on and passed on tips. It did help that he was like a kid on Christmas - fist pumping, and screaming at the screen.

Here's some pics from our adventure.

Just for the record. He did look up. It's just that the only time I was allowed to take pictures was when he was catching something exciting.

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