I was aging gracefully, hopping over milestones with the ease of eternal youth.
Gray hair? Stylish.
Hair loss? I’m in good company with Bruce Willis and Captain Picard.
Standing out like a sore, arthritic thumb at the young adults church service? I never liked those things anyway.
Reaching the big Three-O? No sweat.
Getting my first set of dentures? Ok, that hasn’t happened yet. But when it does, I’m sure it won’t be half as traumatizing as this:
How has my kids’ Little Tikes keyboard traumatized me and made me realize what an ancient relic I really am?
By playing a nursery school rendition of Smash Mouth’s “Allstar.”
One minute, I’m thinking what an adorable little keyboard. So small, so blue, so full of musical wholesomeness. The next minute, my jaw is putting a hole through the floor as the keyboard belts out the notes for “Hey now, you’re an all star, get your game on, go play…” Sacrilege. The quintessential sound of rebellious, ironic 90s rock, relegated to the lullaby land of lambs and teddy bear picnics.
This same keyboard also plays Love Shack and Hot Hot Hot, but that’s forgivable. I was still very young when those songs topped the charts.
But Allstar? When that song hit the radio waves, I was already in my second or third year of college! MY COLLEGE MUSIC IS NOW CONSIDERED SAFE FOR TODDLERS!
What’s next? A Miley Cyrus wrecking ball hippity-hop?
I’m not getting old. I’m already dead.
For my last will and testament, I hereby bequeath all my lousy 90s music to the nursery.