The Yo-Kai Watch Takeover

There is a wave coming, my parenting friends. You may not have heard of it yet, but I assure you, it’s well on its way.

The Yo-Kai Watch wave.

You may brush this aside. Just another funny cartoon for your kids, you may think.

But no, my parenting comrades, it is SO much more.

Yo-Kai Watch is a legitimate phenomenon in Japan. It even out-grossed the latest Star Wars movie when their movie was released on the same date. That is nothing to sneeze at, no matter where you’re from.

We were lucky enough to receive a box from Hasbro containing a bunch of Yo-Kai Watch goodies: the watch needed to see and hear the Yo-Kai; several medallions for particular Yo-Kai to insert into the watch, which allows you to hear the various songs and catch phrases of each; a notebook where they could store their medallions and see which ones they still needed; posters (which were required to IMMEDIATELY be put up on our children’s walls), and one solitary DVD. The Yo-Kai Watch show itself.

After the kids went gaga over their new found toys, they wanted to watch the show to better understand the characters. We did too, so we threw it in the DVD player.


Watches at the ready, we sat and dove head first into the wave.

The catchy theme song pulled my kids in right away. And when the line “Fidgephant makes you need a quick commode,” happened, they roared with laughter and were hooked. Let’s face it: so was I. They are my offspring, after all.

But Yo-Kai is not only a catchy song; it’s a show with compelling characters that each child took to in their own ways. There’s Whisper, who guides the main character Nate by gifting him the Yo-Kai Watch so he can see other Yo-Kais, who appears as an excitable ghost who  has access to a Yo-Kai database of sorts. He informs Nate of what the powers of each Yo-Kai he encounters and fills him in on their back story. Manjimutt is part human, part poodle who enjoys scaring people with his hybrid features. Jibanyan is a feline looking creature who haunts intersections. Nate tries to helps the Yo-Kai, like these two, change their ways to help people.

We saw the first four episodes of this show, which my kids watched straight through. Lots of laughs and trying to find medallions to match the new characters that appeared in each episode. They were completely engrossed, and when the show was over they ran into our sons’ room to play with the watches and trade medallions, the little entrepreneurs they are. Suffice to say they absolutely LOVED it.


We’ve watched those four episodes a few times already. They know the theme song word for word (which means we know it word for word too). The show is catchy, funny, and is perfect for kids. Many has been the time where I’ve found myself humming the theme song around the house, only to have one or all of our kids start belting out the words, huge grins on their faces. The kids even asked me to record them doing some version of the Harlem Shake to one of the medallions songs:

Harlem Shake/Yo-Kai Mashup

Their smiles, joy, and happiness is all the barometer I need. Bring on the wave.

Yo-Kai Website: 

Yo-Kai App link:

Hasbro Website:

Yo-Kai Watch and Hasbro have graciously provided me and my family with Yo-Kai toys, videos and other compensation for this post. Doesn’t change my opinion of the fun and awesomeness we had with it. #YoKaiWatch #YKWdad #sponsored



The Longest of Years

I can still feel the panic. I can still remember your small hands in mine, warm and sweaty. The fear and confusion in your eyes. Doctors and nurses moving like flies, swarming you.

The silence. Your silence. I can hear that over everything.

The questions keep coming at you from all angles.

“What’s your name?”


“Do you know who that is?” Fingers point to us.


“Do you know where you are?

Still silence.

You can’t talk, but your eyes are loud and pleading. This must be so strange for you. Your dad isn’t much given to tears.

So many tests. Still more questions. Still no words from you.

The doctor asks us to come with him so he can speak to us. I go with him, but my eyes stay with you, afraid to let go of our stare. I fear that if I do, I’ll never get you back.

The doctor talks in hushed tones, but it’s blurry. The words “stroke” and “life flight” are said.

This can’t be. Not to you.

Another flurry of activity surrounds you. They are preparing you for a helicopter ride that you have to take alone. We’re not allowed to come with you. We have to drive two hours and will not be by your side. My heart is on fire, fueled by helplessness. You are told about the flight, and you nod your head. It’s the first response we’ve seen from you; the faintest of hopes for all of us.

I can’t remember much of the drive except seeing your helicopter fly over us.

When we finally arrived at the hospital and found you, I can recall the small smile you held. The recognition was like a lasso pulling us toward you. Still no words are available to you, but I knew our Eric was on his way back to us.

Several hours passed, their numbers unclear to me now, before you spoke again. Tentative at first, as if you were putting a foot on ice you’re unsure of to test it out. More words come later, but they are labored. You were struggling, but fighting. As I knew you would.

After an astonishing amount of prodding, needles and more tests, the doctors finally agree to let you rest. We tried to rest too, but it was fitful and impossible.

The next morning you were more nearly yourself. You spoke mostly normal, with a gap here and there. You were almost back.

You endured a week of constant evaluation as you healed. We endured the unknown.

One year ago this happened to our vibrant, silly, boisterous, funny, loving son.

One worrisome, scary, blood-test-filled year.

The longest of years.

Tears come to me each time I revisit that day. I’m thankful for those tears. It reminds me of how healthy you are today, a year after our world nearly collapsed.

I’m grateful that this past year, the longest of years, will be followed by many more years for you…and for us.