*sighs heavily*
Kids today.
They have the world at their fingertips. They are living in a future we only imagined in sci-fi movies. And mine are obsessed with the past. The olden days. The — and this one hurts — 1900s.
“Tell me about when you were a kid,” they’ll ask at bedtime, or while we’re driving to a warehouse filled with trampolines, and I’ll regale them with tales of the dark ages. They listen on the edge of their seats, trying to imagine the world I grew up in.
They squirm when I describe turning on the television and finding that my favorite show had switched time slots, and I play it up.
“And I had no way to find out what happened! And then! I’d have to check the newspaper to see when that episode might show up again! But I might never see it!”
They are aghast when I describe getting a cell phone — at age 21 — and having a set amount of minutes available to use.
