Good Old Days

“I’m taking my turn on the X-Box,” Elder announced, the other night, striding forcefully into the kitchen.

I barely glanced at him as I finished the last bit of tidying of the day. “Not right now. Your dad and Younger are working on the internet, and they are using the X-Box connection to check their progress.”

And suddenly my seventeen-year-old son launched into a tirade, wearing a path across the wood floor as he paced out his agitation. “I said — just today, in school — I said that technology is going to be our downfall. We can’t do anything without it. And here I am, at home, and we can’t even go one night without the internet. Oh, no, we have to fix it, right now, tonight. It’s almost ten o’clock! And because they can’t go without the internet, I may not have a chance to play the X-Box.”

I blinked at him, this son of mine who was pulling his smart phone from his pocket in order to entertain himself until the X-Box became available. And I know I’m old, decrepit really, out of touch with the progress of the day, I’m sure, as all parents are. I mean I’m from the days of Pong, so what do I really know?

But I’m just pretty sure, I just think it’s fairly likely that the X-Box, well, I just think that it’s probably part of technology.

And as for the smart phone…

I guess there’s technology and then there’s technology.

And Pong just isn’t it, anymore.

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