We’re running out of summertime.
It happens every year, of course, but it’s jarring just the same. As soon as you get in the groove of swimming pool visits and late-night popsicles, it’s time to buy 24 pre-sharpened pencils and wide-rule, loose-leaf notebook paper.
In between school supply missions and doctor’s visits, the kids and I are enjoying last-minute morsels of freedom.
For me, that means some guilty pleasure binge- watching, a couple more novels (historical fiction has been my go-to genre this season), dinners with friends and a little bit of quiet time, away from everything, including my people.
That hasn’t been difficult to arrange, because my people are currently a little obsessed with catching those Pokemon critters with their smartphones. (The idea of an augmented reality app on a tiny handheld computer/ phone device seems totally normal now, but I can’t help but pause in awe and a tiny bit of bewilderment of the world we live in.)
Some are a little more engrossed in Pokemon Go than others. Cooper is a Level 17 (though possibly higher by publication time), and Katie is halfway through Level 10. I sit unabashedly at a pathetic Level 3, as I would rather spend my free time with the activities mentioned above.
Brother and sister are four years apart, but age doesn’t matter in Pokemon. They talk at length about hatching eggs and evolving Eevees, about their highest combat power Pokemon and which gyms to attack.
When Katie catches a flying creature (they can be difficult), Cooper compliments her. He also offers brotherly advice, which I partly understand, such as:
“I don’t know why you waste all of your star dust on a Raticate when you could be saving it for a better Pokemon later on.”
They even choose to be on the same team: Mystic, more commonly known as the blue team.
I’m enjoying the sibling harmony, so much so that sometimes I’ll even change my route to accommodate the young hunters. The long way home from church offers more Pokestops (the places you can get Pokeballs, which allow you to capture the animated guys) and more options for catching.
Cooper is willing — eager, even — to run errands with me, because you never know what’s out there. And while he’s in the front seat next to me, we have bonus conversations.
We’ve gone on extra walks around the neighborhood. We’ve discovered new neighborhoods. We’ve discussed density patterns and how they affect the availability of Pokemon to catch.
Even with my fondness for the month-old game, I have my limits. When we were on vacation last week, I placed some Pokemon moratoriums, delivered in my best mom voice:
“It’s not every day we drive along the Pacific Coast, so put your phone away.”
“We don’t have trees this tall anywhere in Texas. Look out the window instead of at your phone.”
“How many more Pokeballs do you actually need?”
As summer fades, I expect Pokemon will, too, at least at our house. We’re about to be engulfed in homework and band practice. Mornings will be rushed. School nights will be too hectic for games of any kind.
In no time, real reality will push augmented reality aside. Gone, too, will be afternoons at the pool and Gilmore Girls marathons and chocolate- dipped soft-serve cones because it’s a Tuesday.
We’re holding on as long as we can.
Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. Email her at firstname.lastname@example.org.