The Generation Crap

Rumors of my senility have been greatly exaggerated.

Yesterday, I mentioned how my son was adamant that carrying an umbrella was NOT socially acceptable for a whippersnapper of his tender years. Also, Mommy Needs a Xanax commented her concern, and corroborated the present-day stigma of umbrella-totage. Who knew? Not this old lady, that's for sure.

My self esteem was not bolstered by the morning conversation with Genius. It preceded the favorite Frisbee, sweatshirt, and umbrella brouhaha. I made him rise and shine at the ungodly hour of 10:30. He flopped on the couch and put a pillow over his face, occasionally peering out to watch some National Geographic. We seem to be getting NatGeo free this month. The show was Is It Real, an episode concerning Atlantis, how supposedly the Atlantians were geniuses who traveled the world teaching different civilizations pyramid-building and other vital skills. It alleged that all the secrets of the Atlantians are buried under one of the pyramids in the Giza complex, which the narrator referred to as the Temple of Giza.

Genius took the pillow off his face and looked at me. Pointedly. "If that was about you, it would be the Temple of Geezer." Ain't that a fine how-do-you-do? Coming from Mr. I Sliced Open My Finger With An X-Acto Knife While Inventing A 3D Camera Tripod.

In the afternoon, after his unsupervised swim, he accosted me for ideas on designing a new phone app for the android market. He's made a dollar or two off his previous apps, the last one being a game that I supplied the idea for, with kids being the target market. This time, he said, "Give me an idea. What kind of app do you and your old lady friends need for your phones?" I told him it would have to be something really simple. "I know that. That's why I'm asking you. If you can use it, I know anybody can use it."

In this house, insults come in threes. Last night I asked him how to set up the Twitter, Facebook, Gmail forwarding thingies at the bottom of each post. He elbowed me out of the way faster than Jimmy Fallon as Nick Burns, Your Company's Computer Guy. I had to ask him what each symbol stood for. He sighed. He pounded the keys with all the gusto of a stenographer transcribing a Dennis Miller rant. He picked and chose which symbols to include.

"Wait a minute. Why did you leave that one out? What is that? Yahoo? Why don't you put that one on there?"

Well. Apparently, nobody uses Yahoo anymore. I could tell by the dramatic eye roll, the piercing stare of disbelief, and the declaration, "Nobody uses Yahoo anymore, Mom. Just no."

Pardon me while I go slice open some tennis balls for the feet of my walker.