1 cheesy '80's romance movie.
1 child who was not alive when said movie was made.
10 years of living in a push button technological era.
Combine. Wait for child to make comment. Let comment sink in. Slowly curl into fetal position.
So...I happened to catch Sleepless In Seattle while flipping aimlessly in search of something interesting to watch. Yes, it's the cheesiest, sappiest, gratuitously tear jerkiest movie ever to come out of the eighties, but I forgive it and love it all the more for it.
Diminutive One wandered in and sat down to watch with me. Why, I don't know. I suspect he has a romantic streak, but he would never admit to it.
During one scene, plucky Meg Ryan (Annie Reed) is sitting at a typewriter, trying to compose a letter to Tom Hanks (Sam Baldwin). Frustrated with her efforts, she rips the paper out of the machine, balls it up, and tosses it over her shoulder.
Diminutive One turned to me with his freckled little nose crinkled in confusion and said,
"What is that thing? Doesn't it have a delete key?"
I guess I'll just give up now. There's no point coloring my hair and plucking my chin hairs and slathering my face with lotions and potions.
Because I will always have my children upon whom to rely for such innocent, but salient reminders of the fact that I, like typewriters, am becoming obsolete.
Once, they were sleek and sexy and coveted. Now, they are relics. Clunky, inefficient, and mostly...forgotten in basements and attics across America.