I know you probably don’t want to hear from me. I don’t blame you. I’ve been a terrible mother to you all these years. I haven’t seen you since 1999 when I threw you in the bottom of my t-shirt drawer. That feels like a million years ago. It feels like yesterday.

You have to understand when I bought you, I didn’t know what I was getting in to. The late night poo clean-ups, the feedings, the games – do you remember the games we used to play? I would have to guess which direction you were going face and then you would turn and face right or left. I was never good at guessing. Hahaha, what a fun game.

Still, I wasn’t ready to be mother to a Tamagotchi. When I got you I was 12 years old. All my friends were becoming Tamagotchi moms and dads and I thought, “Sure! I can do that. It’s just a little digital egg, how hard can it be?” I had no clue how my world was about to change.


The last time I saw you, you were nearly buried by your little Hersey’s turds.

As the days slipped away, it became clear I wasn’t ready for the awesome responsibility of raising a little alien egg circle. I could never get you on a normal sleep or meal schedule. I thought that feeding you little pieces of candy was the way to get you to like me. Then that tiny skull would appear and I would be devastated. I felt embarrassed, I felt like a failure. My mom never should have gotten you from Toy ‘R’ Us. A B+ in social studies is honestly not that impressive and I kind of can’t believe I got a reward at all.

God, there was so much I should have taught you. I was too young to understand the value of discipline. I would let you shit all over your screen and thought it was funny. Now I know better – you were begging for discipline. I didn’t even know I could potty-train you, how sick is that? I thought you just shit on the floor forever.

I write to you now as a different woman. I’ve grown, I’ve changed, I make my own marinara sauce from scratch and save it in Mason jars. So if you’d like to try again, I’m ready. I’ve read the little manual you came with and I’m prepared to re-spawn you into existence. But if not, I completely understand. I may be ready to be a mother but you may never be ready to let me back into your life.

Here’s hoping. I love you, Tamagotchi.


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