Out of the Mouths of Teens
Technology is taking over our world.
Seriously. And I think it’s dumbing us down as it does. I'm starting to believe that it's all part of its evil, evil plan.
So, case in point: My fifteen year old son and I were talking about something he needed to get done, something I wanted done by nine o’clock. (The only out I will give him at this moment is that it was the weekend, when apparently time ceases to exist for people between the ages of thirteen and, well, grown-up). My son, who up until this moment I have considered bright, maybe even brilliant at times, looks at the clock, and then looks at me like I’m stupid and he says, “Mom, relax, it’s only 11:35.”
Now, I’m not sure how this played across my face, but try to picture this…I may have choked on my own tongue, just a little, and then my mouth dropped open. I know I wasn’t laughing (yet) because I was too stunned at that moment to recognize the humor. I shook my head, I think, and said…
(those of you who can tell time will totally appreciate this)
“Dude, it’s 7:55. SEVEN FIFTY-FIVE.” (I said that last part like maybe my formerly bright son had recently inhaled some super glue, killing off a billion or so brain cells).
Picture a standard wall clock here (i.e. not the digital kind). The hands…the little one and the big one…and their placement.
Since when can't our kids tell time on a normal clock? How hard is it to tell which hand is the little one (the one pointing to the seven) and which is the big one? And how in the holy crud did he lose track of over eight hours?
So what did I do? I laughed. I laughed so hard I almost cried. In front of him. And I retold the story to anyone who would listen. In front of him.
And now, I’m blogging about it...and I may even post it on his MySpace page.
Someday, I’ll say, “Remember that time…? That was awesome!!!”
Seriously. And I think it’s dumbing us down as it does. I'm starting to believe that it's all part of its evil, evil plan.
So, case in point: My fifteen year old son and I were talking about something he needed to get done, something I wanted done by nine o’clock. (The only out I will give him at this moment is that it was the weekend, when apparently time ceases to exist for people between the ages of thirteen and, well, grown-up). My son, who up until this moment I have considered bright, maybe even brilliant at times, looks at the clock, and then looks at me like I’m stupid and he says, “Mom, relax, it’s only 11:35.”
Now, I’m not sure how this played across my face, but try to picture this…I may have choked on my own tongue, just a little, and then my mouth dropped open. I know I wasn’t laughing (yet) because I was too stunned at that moment to recognize the humor. I shook my head, I think, and said…
(those of you who can tell time will totally appreciate this)
“Dude, it’s 7:55. SEVEN FIFTY-FIVE.” (I said that last part like maybe my formerly bright son had recently inhaled some super glue, killing off a billion or so brain cells).
Picture a standard wall clock here (i.e. not the digital kind). The hands…the little one and the big one…and their placement.
Since when can't our kids tell time on a normal clock? How hard is it to tell which hand is the little one (the one pointing to the seven) and which is the big one? And how in the holy crud did he lose track of over eight hours?
So what did I do? I laughed. I laughed so hard I almost cried. In front of him. And I retold the story to anyone who would listen. In front of him.
And now, I’m blogging about it...and I may even post it on his MySpace page.
Someday, I’ll say, “Remember that time…? That was awesome!!!”
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