This time I was grand-slammed by my nine-year-old boy.
His assignment for school was to make and adopt a pet rock, and we were having a discussion about it. A pet rock. Those of you who are my age know about these. But my older daughter, who was listening-in on the conversation, really didn’t, so I explained.
“You actually had a pet rock?” she asked me, not understanding how a fairly intelligent person like me could have paid good money for something so silly.
“Yes, it was quite the craze back in the ‘70’s,” I answered.
“I can’t believe people actually bought those,”she said.
I told her it must have been the brain-child of a marketing genius. Selling rocks that were probably found in his/her backyard. Ridiculous.
My nine-year-old boy heard me reference the ‘70’s.
“Wait,” he said. “You were born in the ‘70’s?”
“Uhh, actually no. I was born in the ‘60’s, if you can believe it.”
“Wow,” he said. “You were?”
“Yep,” I answered, and was a little surprised at his surprise. I am his mother, after all. And it wasn’t all that long ago.
“What?” He asked in astonishment, raising his eyebrows. “You were alive in the 1600’s?” He thought he had a dinosaur for a mother.
“Whatt??” I asked myself. “Not the 1600’s, you goofy kid. The ‘60’s. The 19-60’s!”
“Oh, good,” he answered. “I thought you were really old.”
And there is my latest anecdote portraying a modern-day generation gap. (And obviously, the fact that my son needs tutoring in social studies).