Today I had one of those wonderful moments when my son allowed me realize that time is not just slipping by like sands through the hour-glass (Dang, I miss TV. But I digress) it is careening past at speeds too high to be accuarately clocked.
It all started harmlessly enough. We were watching the movie "Freaky Friday". Not the Lindsay Lohan re-make (which we've viewed countless times due to Son's heart-wrenching crush on Lindsay) but the original with Jodie Foster. There we sat, my son and I enjoying a movie I remember fondly from childhood. We were watching the scene when the mother, in Anabel's body, is trying to type on an electric typewriter. And then it happened. Out of nowhere my son asked, "What are those?"
"What are what?"
"Those keyboard things."
"Yeah. What are they?"
"Well, they are used for typing letters and things."
"Like on a computer."
"Yes, like that."
"Well where's the monitor?"
"There is no monitor."
"Then how can you see what you're typing?"
"It's right there on the paper. You just look at it as you type."
"So you, like, type WHILE it's printing?"
As I was coming to terms with the fact that my child did not understand what a typewriter is, he hit me again.
"How old is Jodie Foster?"
"I'm not sure. A few years older than I am, I think."
"Whoa! Are you kidding me? She's really older than you?"
"Well, yes. A little."
"Man! Is she even still alive? I can't believe this movie is even in color!"
The sad part is, he wasn't even trying to be sarcastic.
Christmas vacation ends tomorrow. Not a moment too soon.