Fiona was cleaning up the basement playroom this afternoon while I was working from home in my office. Just about quitting time, Deidre came to my office with a request from Fee.
"Mom wants you to get her a bin to... she needs a place to put..."
I looked at her with an 'out-with-it-already' look on my face.
"She wants..." Deidre was clearly struggling to come up with the right word for something.
"It's okay; I'm just about finished here. I'll ask her myself."
"She wants a bin to put those things that you can only play in the playroom or in your room."
I looked at her quizzically, then shrugged and stood up. "It's okay, I'll ask her myself." I said as I started for the door of my office.
"TAPES! Mom wants to store the tapes from the playroom."
Again, I looked at her; uncomprehending. Then I got it. And I laughed, all the way to the playroom.
"What did I say that was so funny?"
I told Fiona about the exchange, and as I described how Deidre was struggling for the word, she smirked as well, clearly understanding why I was so bemused.
I don't think I've ever felt as old as I did just then, knowing that my child was more familiar with CDs and DVDs than with VHS tapes, but I'm glad she's not overly-saddled with working knowledge of obsolete technology.
I'm betting this is how Grandpa felt when Dad was messing about with cars instead of horses.