Where's the Button, Daddy?

You can tell, just by the questions our children ask, what type of world we are living in.

Just tonight, I was playing with Carter and Jackson in their room while Angie and her sister were watching Grey's Anatomy. They'd go from one toy to another, playing with each one for a milisecond or two before moving onto the next. No matter whether it be a spinny, flashy Sesame Street astronomical thingamajig or a Little People farm set or an Incrediblock, they all have some sort of interactive button-mashing noise maker incorporated on it somewhere. Even many of their books have Elmo telling you how proud he is of you going to the potty or some clang, bang, swish of a sword from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (I despise that book, by the way).

So there we are just playing along, sitting in the floor, laughing and gigglin' when Carter picks up a rather large Tonka truck and he is anxiously turing it over; left and right, up and down and then asks, Where's the Button, Daddy?