Shut up. I'm playing Pokemon Go for my son.

Shut up. I'm playing Pokemon Go for my son.

Boy Child said this to me when we arrived at school this morning: "I know you're getting that PokeStop."

"Yeah," I said. "Well, you need more PokeBalls."

He also knows that I leave the Pokemon Go app open any time we walk anywhere. My Fitbit died, and now hatching monsters from eggs is the only way I get any credit for moving. So, yeah. I'mma hatch some eggs.

When John and I went to New York last month, the kid was very excited to see all the new Pokemon I might find. First I found a bunch of PokeStops at O'Hare. I caught a Tauros there, and texted my mom about it. Boy Child was very excited.

When we got to Manhattan and were stuck in traffic in a cab, I opened the app just to see. I hatched an egg. I caught a few new Pokemon. I texted my mom again.

We went out for drinks that night with a friend, and there was a PokeStop right near the bar. I thought, hey, we're just sitting here. I'll go ahead and put a lure module on that bitch. I caught three or four new Pokemon that night, and texted my mom again about it. She said, "Good job, honey." I realized it was very late to be messaging her. So I saved the rest of my texts for the morning.

My husband asked me, "When does this stop being for the kid and start being for you?"

I said, "It's totally just for him."

He nodded. "Uh-huh."

***
I wrote a book! It's YA novel, THE SOUND OF US. You can find the details right here! Kirkus calls it "a winning story about a teenage voice student that hits all the right notes."

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