Is this the personification of Ruined Childhood?
Growing up, I liked Pokemon as much as the next person. I have this vivid memory of trading cards with cousins at my grandma’s house. I accidentally traded a holographic vaporeon for a lesser pocket monster and immediately regretted it. My older male cousin would not trade back, prompting me to cry until one of the adults made him give it back.
They all called me a crybaby and we never played cards together again.
But even today, I can go into one of my old grade school binders and flip through lamented plastic sleeves protecting treasures from the 90s. I don’t think they can say the same – so who’s laughing now?