I'm old and my kids are old. We're too old.
As a blogger, I'd love to post a cutesy video of my cute kids and I being all cute doing a cute thing to a cute song or talking about something really, really...cute.
But alas. I had my kids late in life. I became a mother just five days shy of my 36th birthday, and again at 38. My husband (when I had one) and I were never young and cute enough to do this:
Not that he ever would have, mind you. I was the theatre major in college, not him. He wouldn't sing along with Disney if you held a gun to his head, and he firmly believed that the Wiggles were part of a terrorist plot to drive us all stark, raving mad.
And when he left and I became a single mom (and coincidentally, a blogger), I could now do all those great, cute things with my kids.
My kids who were now too old for this stuff.
My son will probably still sing Disney, and we do a mean duet on "When Christmas Comes to Town" from "Polar Express", but he's not a toddler, or even a pre-schooler anymore. Next year, he's in middle school.
My daughter is a teenager in a few weeks and if I filmed her, all you'd see is the top of her head because her face will be buried in her iPhone. And she might download the entire soundtrack of "Frozen" but she wouldn't be caught dead actually singing it.
Our young, cutesy, fun family days are gone. At least, as far as inernet viewership goes. So my blog will have to feature other young, quirky, good-looking families singing and eating cupcakes and driving home from the dentist, as I look on with envy.
I still know the choreography to "Hot Potato" and "Big Red Car." I bet with a couple of margaritas in me, it'd make a hell of a video.