This weekend I turned 33. I don't usually feel old or whine about birthdays, but this one hit me a little stronger than most. I think it's because I remember when I was a kid and my uncle turned 33. And he was a grown-up.
Does that make me a grown-up now too?
Here are a few of those moments where my age has really slapped me in the face lately:
1. Mo, at the ripe old age of 4, asked (seriously) for his own laptop from Santa. He's had a toy laptop since he was 2 and he's sick of me "kicking him off" my own computer when he's trying to play his games on nickjr.com or pbskids.org or watch a streaming Care Bear video from Netflix. I got my first computer (with a modem, what we had before that was basically a word processor) when I was a senior in college. Mo isn't even in kindergarten.
2. My kids hardly ever watch TV in real time. And when we do, Mo often asks me to "freeze it." They're used to watching shows online or DVDs from the library. He doesn't understand why I can't freeze Sesame Street for him when he goes to the bathroom.
3. Mo thinks that Bingo and Candyland are computer games. He learned to play both of them, completely on his own, during his special computer time while I'm putting Curly down for naps.
4. My kids think that going to insanely huge indoor water parks is a normal way to spend the weekend.
5. Mo's been asking a lot of questions about death lately. That could be a whole other blog post. But he asked me if he was going to die. I told him not for a long time, when he's very, very, very, very old. He replied, "Old like Daddy?" My husband is 33.
6. One of Mo's friends saw the crank for my car window and asked "What's that?" She's 6. She had never seen manual car windows before.
10 months ago