This morning we were watching little videos we’ve taken of the kids through the years. Man, I could watch them for hours and hours and hours. Our kids are so doomed when they come back home for Christmas twenty years from now — Sir Monkeypants will say, “How about we fire up the XBox and watch some family videos?” and then we’ll ignore the groaning and retching and pouring of many drinks, while we chant, “Oh, you were SO CUTE,” over and over.
My apologies in advance to my future sons and daughters-in-law.
Sometimes I like to imagine that it’s a hundred thousand years in the future, and people have evolved to become flying balls of light, and all trace of the 21st century is lost to memory. Then someone comes across our home videos, magically preserved by some Super DVD that has somehow resisted all degradation and erosion. Then, all that the future people will know of the 21st century is what we have in our videos. They’ll think that everyone ate Cheerios for breakfast every day, that everyone liked to spin and spin and spin until they passed out, that everyone had fake light saber fights on a regular basis.
And of course, they’ll think that every kid had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes and was totally adorable.
All true, no? Not a bad legacy to leave, I say.