Pretty Crazy Kids
My grandson loves shows that are completely different from anything I would watch. Sci-fi drama. Scary. Graphic violence. Terror. Spectacular special effects. Not my thing.
But I watch because it gives me at least one point of connection with him, which is becoming increasingly limited.
I would much prefer a comedy. A musical. A musical comedy. A documentary. A documentary about a musical comedy.
Anything Beatles.
So I relent. These horror shows give me nightmares. The images stay with me. I try hard to focus on the acting. The production. The predictable cliches. The ridiculous hairstyles.
I keep repeating to myself, “I ain’t skeert.”
And I ain’t. I mean I’m not. Skeert, that is. They’re just dumb shows. Don’t tell him I said that. Not dumb. Just wrong for me.
I’m clearly not the target for these shows. Never a mention of any traditional cultural norms. Nobody talks on the phone, or visits their grandparents, or plays baseball.
But the overall picture isn’t as gloomy as the shows. These kids are pretty smart. Ever have one blink and fix your cell phone? Fascinating.
I try to do my part. I take him to church. I promote God. I pray for him. He knows it. He believes. He’s a good kid. I love him.
And it’s okay. I’m learning about the Gen Z/Alpha generations. Where Boomer references are generally dismissed and seniors are met with the proverbial roll of the eyes.
Where “67” is more than just my age.
(What the heck does it mean anyway?)