The Latest Generation

You know how you have, say, younger nieces, nephews, cousins or even brothers and sisters who, when they're growing up, think you're just the cat's meow; the hottest thing since microwaveable mac 'n' cheese. You relish the time when their warpable minds will do every little thing you say 'cause it's cool, and it came out of your mouth.

You know there'll come a time when they realize you're nothing more than a fuddy-dud adult who doesn't quite get it. But when that time comes, you're still not prepared for it. I experienced that this weekend with my cousin Cara.

She's 15 and hasn't read the tween mag I work for since she was about 12. She's suddenly hit the teenage angst bit full force, and handles it more glamorously than I ever could. Where I was once "cool," she's gone beyond—listening to bands that Billboard would never touch, knowing a real vintage deal when she sees it, educating herself about politics and the ways of the world, and more importantly, perfecting the smokey eye and the messy bun that took me years to get.

And she has a boyfriend. They love each other. It's really cute. He hopes to be a slightly hairier version of Donald Trump. Yikes. What are they? Generation Y? Regardless, Gen. Y has come a long way, and it's scary. 'Cause Gen. X is gettin' old. Fast.