Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

Mikey was riding with me in the car recently when “No Diggity” by Blackstreet came on the radio. For those of you who are unfamiliar, it’s a popular R&B song circa 1996 – which means it was my jam back in middle and high school.

“Oooo Mikey, I used to dance to this song when I was in school!” I cheered as I turned the volume up and started “dancing” in the car. Over the music I heard my 7-year-old pipe up from the back, so I lowered the volume and asked him to repeat himself.

“I said, they’re probably dead now.”

“Who’s dead?” I asked.

“The band that sings this.”

…

“Mikey! Why would you think that?” I asked.

“Because if they were adults when you were in school, they are probably dead by now.”

Thus began a conversation about different generations and how, believe it or not, there are people who are 40 and 50 years older than me – and beyond – who are still alive.

This wasn’t the first time Mikey has insinuated I’m older than dirt.

He took up an attachment to a stuffed teddy bear I bought from the gift shop at my college alma mater before I graduated in 2005. At one time it wore a little shirt that read, “Someone from Oneonta loves me,” but that’s long gone.

The child has loved it within an inch of its life throughout his seven years, and now the poor thing is covered in bald patches and stains, and its eyes are mismatched because Nana had to replace one that was lost to the playground a few years ago.

Anyway, one time I told Mikey, “You know, that bear used to be mine. I bought it when I was in college.”

“Oh, so it’s 40 years old,” he declared.

“Nooo,” I corrected. “I’m 40 years old, and I went to college when I was about 20, so the bear is about 20 years old.”

“Oh.” He thought a little more about it. “In another 20 years, when it’s 40 years old, it will be really old.”

Thanks, kid.

The latest age-related insult was pretty good, also.

Mikey and I were tossing around the football on a recent afternoon, and on one catch I jammed my finger so I was shaking it out. Mikey asked me, “Hey, Mom, how come you don’t have acrylic nails.”

Not “fake nails” … “acrylic nails.”

“Where have you even heard about or seen acrylic nails?” I asked in disbelief.

“I dunno.”

“Well, do your friends talk about them? Or does your teacher have acrylic nails?”

“No, but you probably don’t have them because young girls do. And you’re not young.”

But don’t worry, I’m not the only one he thinks is old.

Mikey is obsessed with WWE and was recently watching wrestling clips with his dad on YouTube, and an older video came up.

“Oh, wow, Mikey – that’s the Rock,” my husband said. While Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson is best known for his role in feature films such as the kid-friendly “Jumanji” remake and portraying the voice of Maui in “Moana,” he started his professional wrestling career with WWE back in 1996.

“That doesn’t look like him,” Mikey said, scrunching his face up in disbelief.

“It is,” his dad assured.

There was a moment of silence, and then, “Wow, he got REALLY old.”

The Rock is 52.

Which, I pointed out to the child, makes me a full decade younger than him!

Holly Crocco is editor of the Putnam County Times/Press and mother of a 7-year-old. She can be reached at editorial@putnampresstimes.com.