Before I write anything else, I need to let you know that today is Back to the Future Day.
You know… for the six of you who haven’t already seen that newsworthy headline on Facebook… or even the television set, which is how Charles and Caroline Ingalls must’ve caught up on the news in the evenings, out on the prairie, since Facebook wasn’t a real thing in Walnut Grove then.
The other morning, I was scrolling along on my phone, when Hubs asked what I was doing. I told him that I was reading the news, but he shot back with, “You are not! You’re on Facebook!” This is where I just shook my head at the man who rebels against all forms of social media, because if it’s a hot ticket news item, it’s going to pop up on Facebook before FOX manages to pick it up, which means I’LL KNOW OF IT BEFORE THE MAN I MARRIED DOES.
I do hate to admit it on the World Wide Web, but I am old enough to have seen Back to the Future in the theater, when it first came out. I may or may not have decided that Marty McFly was cuter than Scott Baio, too. And I may or may not have thought when Doc Brown pushed some buttons and entered the date OCTOBER 21, 2015 into the DeLorean time machine that he’d end up in a place where everyone flew personal spaceships and lived in giant bubble houses on Mars.
Because 2015? Well, I was having a difficult time adding up all the decades and carrying the ones to the next column, but I knew I was going to be elderly when that year rolled around. I was also pretty certain that I’d have a smaller version of the space shuttle parked in my floating garage. The only problem is that I never once imagined that I’d be old AND the owner of a small mustache that keeps creeping around on my lip, making me a slave to my stylist’s hot wax treatments.
And THAT makes me want to start singing The Circle of Life, in my best Elton John voice.
In other news, I taught PE today. In my pre-kindergarten class, I like to line everyone up at one end of the gym for a little running exercise. I’ll say things like, “If you have on a red shirt, run to the far wall and come back,” or “If you like Barbie dolls, run to the far wall and come back.” Those four-year-olds love this little drill.
Today, I shouted out, “If you love donuts with sprinkles on them, run to the wall and come back!” Everyone enthusiastically took off for the wall, except for one little guy who just stared at me. I said to him, “Oh, come on! Surely you like donuts with sprinkles!” And that, people, is exactly when that preschooler said, “No. They’re full of GMOs, gluten and sugar I shouldn’t have.”
Which… of course… made me regret the small fact that I let Thing 2 eat an entire lunchbox-sized bag of sour cream and onion potato chips as his afternoon snack yesterday. Apparently there are some mothers who are just killing it at Successful Parenting, while I’m over here, just happy that I got dinner into the crockpot yesterday morning, gluten and all, because my Tuesdays are jam-packed full. My Wednesdays are every bit as wicked busy, too, and I failed my family tonight.
And they were probably full of GMOs, gluten and sugar they shouldn’t have. My fifteen-year-old self cringes a bit, as I realize that October 21, 2015 didn’t come with little meal capsules of mashed potatoes and gravy and roast beef that could be shaken out of a jar and swallowed with a glass of water and enjoyed.
Apparently, I’m still responsible for cooking all the healthy food my boys need, even though I’ve made it clear to the future.