In Roman Times...

We had finished our breakfast.  Lily busied herself in the family room with "Chipmunk" books while Emma sat backwards (of course) in the chair and faced me.

"Mommy should wrap this clock," she said.

Leslie had wrapped a few of our smaller wall-mounted pieces of "art" the previous night and they looked very festive and Christmasy.  When she finished we had mock-criticized her that she hadn't wrapped the enormous print over the couch.  Apparently Emma felt our Christmasiness could still use a boost.

"Why would she wrap the clock," I replied?

"Well, it doesn't work anyway."

"It does too!  It just runs a little slow when the battery wears down.  Look at the time on it!"

The clock read 7:24.  For the next thirty seconds or so I listened as Emma (straight A's this past quarter) struggled to get the correct time, giggling to herself at her inability to read a 'real' clock.  She kept a running dialogue going as she attempted to work it out.

"six...twenty...., wait, it's five, ten, fifteen..."

"Em," I said, "It's past six, it's actually after seven..."

"Oh!" She laughed, continuing to work...

"REALLY??" I asked, raising my eyebrows, "How can you not tell what time it is?"  I feel like telling time on a traditional clock must be one of those things that is slowly phasing out like VCR's and CD's and GPS's and courtesy.  The only time it's ever really relevant is when a...DVD/Cable box/microwave/cordless phone/cell phone/laptop/computer/iTouch/coffee maker/whatever...isn't available.  In our family room/kitchen alone we have the time echoed on no fewer than seven appliances/devices...none of which are 'analog' time.

She looked at me in mock scorn and replied with a frustrated gesture at the clock face, "Well, I can't help it!  I can't read old people numbers!"

Old people numbers. Or, as old people like to call them:  "Roman Numerals"