We were having lunch at a little sandwich shop; me, my Friend and her sweet Son. The three trays arrive, each one had a prettily wrapped sandwich, a small bowl of fruit and a little cake-pop.
Without pausing in her saga of her back-yard renovation (which I’m honestly keen on), she picks up her Son’s sandwich, unwraps it, lays it out and absently peels the crust off both pieces of bread, sets them aside after tearing them into two pieces each, then with Popeye-muscles mashes the sandwich out of our three-dimensional world, and places it back onto the tray.
Sweet-boy promptly pounces on the atom thin grilled cheese and silently devours it as I learn about structure, fieldstones and tile work.
“Yes?” Answers the Goddess of Patience.
“Can I have my crusts now?”
“Yes.” She replies without wonderment and returns to concrete glaze choices.
Really? In whose alternate world does that question make sense?
I’d eaten my cake-pop second (it’d have been first, but I was in company, so out of polite upbringing, I didn’t). I sat across the cafe table, with its black and white checked plastic covering, amazed that the bread crust rated higher on the eating scale then the cake-pop, or the bowl of strawberries.
Sweet-boys generation doesn’t watch TV, doesn’t read a paper book, prefers full color and sound animated eReaders, enjoys on-line friendships, explores his imagination in a virtual world, types before learning how to hold a crayon, expects his GrandParents to answer his Skype calls (with video) at all hours in any time-zone, and knows that his Mom and Dad are always just a text away regardless of where they are on this planet or in his house.
I ‘get’ that, I understand it, but not the food choices. Where did that dependable sweet-tooth go? I expected every child under 10 to eat sugary stuff first, broccoli last. Yet, there in front of me, this youngest generation was chomping down on his crispy crust with that unfocused look of nirvana in his eyes.
I am aging out of relevance, stuffed happily in my own bubble of reality, unaware until just that moment. Now, I have to decide, do I continue on the easy path and just expect his generation to pay attention to me? Or, do I start working at staying relevant by keeping up with his generation’s interests so that he will tolerate my company as I morph from ‘old’ to ‘really old’.