I goofed. I meant to start today with a cute picture that I took last night of Alex trying to eat Matt's taco. I carefully downloaded the pictures onto my thumb drive this morning, and everything.

And then I left the thumb drive at home.

So you'll just have to wait. But it really was funny, how determined Alex seemed to get at that taco.

(I'd planned tacos for dinner last night without even considering that it was Cinco de Mayo. Funny, these little synchronicities.)

I had a thought last night as I was getting into the shower.

The year 2020. It sounds like the Future, doesn't it? It does to me, anyway, child of the 1970s and '80s that I am. 2020. It sounds so very far away.

And when it gets here... Alex will only be 12, and Penny will still be in high school.

And that feels all too near. They grow up so fast; I have no problem imagining Penny in high school and Alex on approach for his gangly teen years.

If I've done my math right, and they neither skip nor repeat, Penny will graduate high school in 2021. Alex (with his late birthday) will be part of the class of 2026.

And that just feels weird to say. I will be months shy of 50 when Penny graduates high school, and nearly 60 -- if not past it -- when Alex finishes college. It feels weird to think about, and I've been trying to get used to the notion since last night. But there's no way around it:

My children are living in the Future. My children are the future.