I’m cooking dinner and am vaguely aware of The Pickle working away with pencils and paper on the kitchen floor.

“Mama, this is an old car,” he says.

“Mmm,” I reply, chopping onions.

“I mean, it’s really old!”

“Mmm hmm.” (still chopping)

“It’s so old I’m going to color it brown.”

“Oh?” (now chopping carrots)

“It’s like, from the 1980′s!“

I stop chopping. He finally has my attention.

How to know your youth has passed: your children refer to a decade you can clearly remember as if it is an archeological novelty.