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).