The Beauty of Buckeyes and Poke Battles

Six year old Eric desperately wants to climb a tree. There’s just one problem – there is an acute insufficiency of mature trees in our adolescent neighborhood. Now, if he wanted to scale a corn stalk, there would be plenty to go around. I must admit, however that the view from the top of a maple is superior to that which you might see in a corn field.

So to remedy the tree situation, Eric planted a buckeye in our back yard about two years ago. My coworker had brought a handful of the smooth brown balls back after a trip to Ohio (a.k.a. the Buckeye State) and passed them out as good luck charms. Eric felt the buckeye would be much luckier if it were transformed into a real tree.

So he gathered up his little blue bucket and toy trowel and dug a home for it in our back yard. Eric dropped the seed in, patted the earth over it and gave it a drink of water. Before long, we both forgot the exact location where Eric had left the precious little buckeye. But every couple of months I’ll catch him wandering the yard with his shovel testing the soil to see if this is the spot. Then he’ll sigh and look up at me with his puppy dog eyes and say “Mom, when is my tree going to grow.” I don’t have the heart to tell him that it won’t. And part of me wishes the a sapling will one day magically spring up in our yard and spew forth a crop of buckeyes.

I can appreciate Eric’s passion for tree climbing. When I was his age we had three great climbing trees in our yard. The red maple in the front was my favorite because it had several strong, low hanging branches. They could be used like monkey bars to do flips and twists. And you didn’t even have to shimmy up the trunk to get going. Just a few houses down, our neighbors had two cherry trees in their yard. This meant I could quell my thirst for adventure and stave off my hunger all at the same time.

Eric loves when I tell him about my tree climbing days. He gets a kick thinking about his Mom climbing like a squirrel and then dangling from the branches like a monkey. It makes him even more anxious to get a tree of his own. But I’m afraid he will be in college before the beetle infested ash and the sickly maple twig currently in our yard amount to much. And by then, I suspect he’ll have other things on his mind – like cars, sports and girls.

To pass his time as he waits for his buckeye to grow, Eric enjoys playing Pokemon. For the uninitiated, it’s a card game. They are the same size and shape as baseball trading cards. But instead of batting averages and ERAs, they have “power” and “attack” values. And instead of names like “Mike Schmidt” and “Pete Rose” there is Pikachu and Grovyle. While I am pretty confident that the 1980 Phillies could make a good showing against Pika and his gang on the diamond, I know they wouldn't stand a snowball's chance if they got caught up in a Poke battle with an angry Chimchar.

Eric tries to teach me about Pokemon. “Mom”, he rolls his eyes “its PokeMON, not Poke MAN.” Got it. Then he starts to explain the rules of the card game to me and I realize they are about as subtle as an IRS tax form. Somehow his almost seven year old brain can get it but I’m still trying to figure out the difference between a Poke Master and a Poke Trainer. And why do we need to flip a coin every turn? Finally, I just sit back and let the game happen. I trust that my seven consecutive losses are a result of Eric’s superior game play and not the fact that I suspect he made several critical rule changes mid-game.

For Eric, Pokemon is an exciting adventure into fantasy. For me, the beauty of Pokemon is twofold. First, it encourages Eric to learn math. This past summer I was amazed that, only a few weeks after finishing kindergarten, he could discount the 50 Squirtle attack points from Primeape’s power of 110 (the correct answer is 60 for those playing at home) and keep a running total of points and powers coming and going. Personally, I was looking for my calculator about two minutes into the game.

The second delight about Pokemon is that Eric will do almost anything for a Pokemon card. This is an enormous advantage to me when I need him to a) take a bath or b) be nice to his sisters. Believe me, you can get a lot of mileage out of those scraps of paper. Next week I am planning to negotiate three days worth of carrots and broccoli for dinner in exchange for a Gyarados and two Donphans. If I play my cards right (pun intended) I may even end up getting my car washed. I hope this Pokemon craze continues until at least Christmas when I can start dangling Santa as an incentive for good behavior instead.

Last night Eric was explaining the various Pokemon attacks, strengths and powers to me. I tried to look interested and nodded my head like a three dollar bobble head that you found in your Happy Meal. Then he asked when was the next time we could go to the store and buy more Pokemon cards. “Well buddy,” I said, “You need to earn more money to do that.” “How about you clean your room and I’ll give you a dollar”, I suggest. I feel like I might be seriously overpaying him but he doesn’t jump to the bait. If you had ever seen his room, you would know why. “Its too hard” he moans. Then he brightens up as a new idea pops into his head. “Mom, wouldn’t it be so cool if Pokemon cards grew on trees!” Come to think of it, that would be cool. Maybe we’ll find some dangling from the branches of Eric's buckeye…..someday.