A book arrived in the mail recently for my two-year-old son. In the inside flap was a once-revolutionary technology. Of course, he had no idea what the shiny thing was. A frisbee for the dog? A flat cookie that had already been visited by the Hungry Caterpillar? A thing Mommy sets her coffee mug on?
“This is a DVD,” I explained to him, as he scratched the bottom of it. Whatever, I thought. It’s not like I have anything to play it on anyway.
A week later he made a tower with some rectangular blocks he found at Grandma and Grandpa’s. Actually, they were VHS tapes. No, he wasn’t kind, he did not rewind.