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First I asked them what those big black circles were that I had taped to my cabinets:
"Disks!"
"CD's!"
"Wheels!"
Then I told them what they were and asked if anyone had seen them before. And, if they had seen them, do you know what the top answer was? "At my granny's house!" Now, I don't doubt that Granny has a record player, but gollllyyyy...how old am I? All of my treasured childhood recordings were on 33 1/2's.
Then I opened up the record player and showed them the needle and the turn table. Awestruck and curious, they patiently watched me unsheathe the record from it's sleeve.
"Whoaaaaaaa," they chorused.
"Is that a real one?" one child asked.
"Yes, that's a real one," I responded.
"Can I touch it?" another one asked, wide-eyed.
"No," I replied. "You can't touch it because if it gets finger oils on it, it won't play anymore."
"Ooooohhhhh."
Yeah, I don't wish for the record player to make a comeback or anything, but when you think about it, wasn't it cool to be a part of the time period when the record was a thing? And we got to experience that as an actual part of our lives, not just as an antique we saw one day in music class. I think, neato.