We live in the age of plastic. Not as in credit card plastic, not as in an eon of world history, but in that nearly everything I just put into the dishwasher is made of plastic.
Of course at this stage, with little ones around slam-dunking dinner plates into the kitchen sink, plastic keeps us from replacing everything every other day.
In retrospect the age of plastic will probably be short-lived (though each day is an eternity). We’ll soon move into the age of mixed plastic and ceramic. And who knows, someday we may be able to set the table entirely with china and stemware.
The age of plastic has its own joys: first steps, feeding oneself (not a pretty sight!), first words, and enthusiastic discoveries of life and the world.
Maybe by the age of ceramic some of this joy and wonder will be gone, but I suspect that new discoveries will be part of every age.
So, for now, we enjoy what we have – serving guests with plastic tumblers, loading our vintage plastic-ware into the dishwasher and enjoying the little lives that make it all possible (should I say necessary?).
I love you kids.
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1 comment:
I love you too, Dad!
Maybe you should indicate somewhere that this musing was written a long time ago and that, you know, your twenty-year-old kids no how to handle dishes and feed themselves without grossing to many people out. Well, some of us do, anyway.
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