Opinion> Lenore Skenazy> Quit Hiding Behind Your Cute Little Kids

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Quit Hiding Behind Your Cute Little Kids

Now that everyone's joyful holiday cards (except ours — sorry!) have been sent out, let us take a moment to figure out what happened to an entire generation of Americans.

You know the generation I'm talking about: the folks over age 30. Look at any glossy family photo card and they are harder to find than a frowning snowman. In their place grins a group far more photogenic.

Their children.

True, true — every once in a while you may get a card that features a whole family. Once in a while you get a wheat penny in your change, too. But the cards gaily arrayed on my mantle (OK, gaily piled next to the phone) show, for the most part, brothers and sisters with their loving arms around each other — or at least together in the same room.

This wouldn't be so bad if I had spent my childhood growing up with these tots, or had gone to college with them or even had wasted years and years and literally tens of thousands of dollars in graduate school with them (and for WHAT?). But the fact is, these are things I did with their PARENTS. And it is their parents that I really want to see. Especially if we have grown apart, this is our one chance to be together again.

And isn't that the whole purpose of annual cards? To weave a skinny thread through the years, tenuously but tenaciously holding loved ones together? (Answer: Yes.)

Ideally, Christmas cards should work like time-lapse photography. You should be able to flip through them and see: How do my friends look now? And now? And now? Old sparkle still there? Old wife? Old hair?

Boy, am I glad I didn't marry HIM!

Of course, it is precisely those sentiments that adults hope to avoid by using their kids as proxies. These moppets are doing for them what Miss November is doing for the jug of motor oil she's, uh … what exactly IS she doing with that jug of motor oil? Let's just call it caressing. The point is: She is making it look good. Better than any other brand of motor oil, ever.

But come on — we were never friends with motor oil. We certainly never slept with it. Motor oil is not the point. Aging friends and family are.

So suck in your stomach, if you must. Wear dark glasses. Rent a spouse. But next year, do us all a favor and put your old, sweet self on your Christmas card.

And by then you should be getting our card, too.

To find out more about Lenore Skenazy (lenore@lenoretown.com), and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.