Omg. I never thought I would live to see 2010. Not because I thought the devil was gonna snatch me outta my bed or anything. I just thought 2010 was a sci-fi number when I was a kid.
It was so far into the future, and my Weekly Reader never really addressed what life would be like, except to say that we would be living like the Jetsons.
We pretty much are except for those cool little spacecraft cars they had. Those were awesome.
But never mind all that.
Here I am at the ripe old age of 50, raising a 10-year-old who is light years ahead of me figuring out “new fangled” products.
He got an iTouch for Christmas and immediately set about figuring it out. It instantly became permanently attached to his body, right at the hip. He’s got a quick trigger finger for a little squanto.
I noticed him boppin’ around the house, singing along to some song that he’d downloaded. He also managed to download a movie and some other stuff off YouTube.
While he was busy shooting down the enemy on one of his PC games however, I took the opportunity to have a gander at the little gadget myself. He was in his game room, I was in the kitchen, and the futuristic bauble was gleaming at me from the counter.
I unraveled the earbud cord, and pushed the little button on the bottom. Nothing. Push push push. Nothing nothing nothing.
Hubs came out to try it.
He pushed the button. Nothing. He pushed again and waited. Nothing.
“Don’t push it again, you’re pushing it so hard you’re likely to put your thumb through it!” I chided.
I called the boy wonder out of his game room.
“Mom ... I’m right in the middle of shooting down this plane ... hold on!” he hollered at me.
The enemy defeated for the time being, he came haulin’ it down the hall.
“What? What?” he asked, clearly in a hurry to get back and launch a missile at something or someone.
“How do you turn this on?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes at me in that “You called me out for THIS?” look.
He picked it up and pushed a different button.
Then he took off like that missile he was fixin’ to launch.
I sat down at the counter and tried not to sweat as I looked at the little apps and slid my finger across the screen as directed.
A touch here, a touch there and I was into his downloaded song list. One song, mistakenly downloaded twice. That’s OK. Beginner’s error.
I wanted to hear what was so fascinating about this song that he had to listen to it all day long. So far it was the only song he’d downloaded, which pretty much shocked me because he has quite a range of tastes and favorites.
Cypress Hill’s “Insane in the Brain.”
I could feel myself limbering up.
The beat of the music seemed to oil up my creaky old joints.
I felt a bit like the Tin Man coming back to life.
I slid across the floor of the kitchen in my fluffy pink socks and did a little Michael Jackson spin.
I managed it without getting dizzy.
I was standing in one spot, bouncing with my knees from left to right, trying to catch the lyrics about slappin’ some ham in a fryin’ pan, when all of a sudden it happened.
I felt that towel-wringing pain of my sciatic nerve.
Just at that moment, the child came back out to make sure I wasn’t using up all the power.
He caught me just as I was limping over to the chair and thought it was dance move.
He stuck his hand out and I deposited the earbuds and spaceage gizmo into his little hand.
“You need dance lessons....,” he said condescendingly, as he went back down the hall.
I need to not be “Insane in the Brain” and think “I still got it!” is what I need.
New Year’s resolution for 2010: Do not try dancing to any music that came out after 1990.
I have to maintain some dignity for at least one more year, even if my insane brain tells me to get up and boogie.
It’s more likely I’ll fall down and cry.