Attack of the Killer (OK, Annoying) Tamagotchi

Our home has been invaded by critters. And not just any
critters, either. You see, we are the victims of a full-on
Tamagotchi invasion.
Our home has been invaded by critters. And not just any critters, either. You see, we are the victims of a full-on Tamagotchi invasion.

And it isn’t pretty.

For those of you who are fortunate enough to be completely ignorant of the world of children’s toys, Tamagotchi are virtual pets. They were popular a few years ago and frankly, I thought they were gone forever. And then one day, Junior came home with one he was “baby-sitting.” And it was all downhill from there.

That’s because once Junior gave back the Tamagotchi, he decided he needed one for himself. And that’s how I came to be a grandmother to four little virtual pets who are complete and total pains in the rear.

Look, a real kid doesn’t need as much attention as a Tamagotchi. They need food, playtime, praise and to have their toilets flushed for them. If you give them too much praise, they turn into spoiled brats who need to have a time-out.

If you give them too little praise, they have to have medicine or they will die.

They need food all the time. They need lots and lots of presents, from their parents and other Tamagotchi. They rarely sleep, and most of the time it’s with a light on.

Come to think of it, they are just like real kids. And just like real kids, they beep constantly. Look, I thought being a grandma would be fun, but I didn’t count on being grandma to whiny, needy, electronic, egg-shaped devices. If we’re being honest here – and I am – every time those stupid things beep at me I have to talk myself out of smashing them with a hammer.

Oh, sure. The instructions that come with the Tamagotchi say it teaches kids responsibility. Um,

right. That’s as long as the kids are at home. Otherwise, it’s up to good ol’ granny to feed them and flush for them.

And good ol’ granny isn’t happy about that.

And heaven forbid I should just ignore the silly things. They beep at me all day long. I tried locking them in the hall closet, but then I got scared.

Was that cruel and unusual punishment? Would Tamagotchi Protective Services come and get me?

But for one blissful day, I managed to ignore all their beeps and cries. And they died. All four of

them. Junior was crushed. After all, how many kids come home from a long day learning about the Nina, the Pinto and the Santa Maria to find out that their mother has killed every Tamagotchi in the house and, worse yet, isn’t sorry at all about it?

It’s enough to scar a kid for life. Or at least for a day or two.

But then the little Tamagotchi hatched new ones, and the cycle of feeding, praising and flushing went on.

Oh, sure, there were a few mishaps. Like when one of Junior’s Tamagotchi gave a present to another Tamagotchi and it turned out to be, well, let’s just say it was a “flushable substance,” OK?

And none of Junior’s Tamagotchi are married, which he blames on me. Apparently, I’m a terrible influence by letting them die and all. How was I supposed to know that letting them die was a bad thing?

Anyway, I think they’re too young to get married. And besides, I’m scared to death that if they do get married, they will hatch new little Tamagotchi and I’ll be stuck with them forever.

Of course, Junior is also mad that I won’t go to the special Tamagotchi shops and purchase special treats for them.

Look, wasn’t it enough that I purchased them? Why do the darned things need special treats, anyway? Not to mention the fact that I don’t know of any special Tamagotchi shops.

But you know what? I have a feeling that this will all turn out fine. After all, the Tamagotchi can grow up to become rebellious teenage Tamagotchi. And that’s when Junior will start suffering through the same Tamagotchi-hell he’s put me through.

I’d better go hide the hammers. I think the Tamagotchi are about to go through puberty. You know, maybe this grandma thing isn’t too bad after all.

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