Bundling Kay and Cee back into their car seats on our return from a birthday party we were part of, my mind wandered off on a track of its own. Watching children play on machines that rocked back and forth or bounced about, I was taken in by the sights and sounds as much as the girls were. Trading coins for few minutes worth of entertainment, kids wandered about their attention being grabbed by the next shiny, glimmering ride.
Settling in my passenger seat as K drove us home, I could not help picturing life a few years from now with me beginning most of my statements with “When I was your age…” Growing up, I was fascinated by the tales Amma and Appa would recall whenever I made unreasonable demands. When I was your age was a popular refrain. One I had grown to cherish and look forward to for it painted a rich image of an age gone past. One that only existed in the minds of the generation past.
I wonder if my children will grow up to be fascinated by a time when birthday parties were not a norm. When return gifts were unheard of and cakes were treats a few times a year. When getting a full bar of chocolate was a rare thing and treasured beyond belief. An age when people actually jumped rope, played hide and seek and wrote letters on paper. When computers meant green screens and GUI meant makeshift boxed constructed with printf(s). Some of it will be a difference in the era in which we lived but some of them will be purely cultural. Will I ever be able to explain to them how sitting next to a boy in class was a matter of shame growing up or that I did not actually know their dad till we were married.
I can probably talk about the different world I grew up in but will I be able to cross the cultural bridge when the time comes? I guess only time will tell but I can sure see some interesting times ahead.