Awkward Mom: Awkward Mom vs. the Next Generation

Not that next generation; Awkward Mom isn't tangling with Klingons. She's not crazy.

My Daring Darlings-

There is a small but loud group of folks that aren't expecting much from your generation. They seem concerned that the abundance of technology is going to cause a complete lack of imagination and contribute to your total isolation and selfish withdraw from society. All those i-Devices proving prophetic, I guess. They periodically pull out data to back up their claims. No, not that Data. (You guys really want this letter to be trekkie, don't you?) Important, scientific data with charts and graphs of poor academic performance and decreasing social skills that this loud group of naysayers like to wave around, usually on an iPad. I know....

It's sad, but we must not judge them too harshly. You see, they don't know you guys. They haven't seen what I have seen. They don't drive you around, listening to the worlds you can create with nothing more than some time to kill and a need to laugh. They don't merge onto the highway and shout into the backseat, "Who wants to play with the wind?" They aren't met with a thunderous wave of "Me!" and one 4-month-old baby smile, up for anything and blindingly radiant, even when filtered through 2 mirrors. They don't get to roll down all the windows, blast the Beatles, and glance in the rear-view mirror at the magic going on. No one is immune or too cool to give in to the sheer beauty of going 70 miles a hour; one's childish need to fly takes over. Giggles bubble up and spill over, creating an ocean for the blowing hair to dance in, like so much blond seaweed. I worry that it might tangle between you, but the unity you have created in your wind wonder would surely be fine with that. You can barely hear each other over the rushing and the music, so you flash smiles that are enough; your communication is as effortless as your joy. You start to bop together and sing along, changing Paul McCartney's nah-nahs to poo-poos with total gleeful abandon. Laughs so very distinctive; Super Kindergartner's is silky, Super Preschooler's is deep, Super Toddler's is barky and infectious, and Super Baby's is so new that it still squeaks unexpectedly. They all merge together, yet allow the harmonious mass to shift around; everyone has a spotlight moment. This is no borg, but a happy group of collaborators who have learned that playing with the wind is best when no one wins the race.

I don't know what amazing feats of technology you are going to witness in your lifetime. I suspect that you will probably be the innovative force behind a couple of them, and I really hope you get those hoverboards that the rest of us have been praying for since 1989. My point is this; I don't worry about technology spoiling you or making you retreat into yourself. Use whatever you need to channel your natural imagination. Try not to blow anything up; you have enough imagination between the four of you to power the planet, the USS Enterprise, and anything else that boldly goes where no one has gone before. Come to think of it, there might be quite a few explosions, but that's cool. It will work out in the end because I know you guys. And you are all incredibly generous, loving, playful, kind, inclusive, warm, sweet, quick, and utterly brilliant without being jerks about it. Go prove those naysayers wrong, in your charming, disarming way. Go. Boldly go.

I love you,
Awkward Mom

P.S. Dibs on the first hoverboard ride!