I'm watching a cartoon with my daughter and the heroine suddenly receives an important call on her wrist communicator. She holds her wrist up to her mouth and talks urgently with her friends back at their secret base. The plot continues.
My daughter's still young enough that smart-watches will always be a native citizen of her world. For her, any timepiece that doesn't actively talk to the internet will automatically fall into the same category as a wind-up mantel clock or pocket watch. An interesting curiosity from a simpler time.
This is just another thing that will soon be her reality, like the self-driving cars, desktop supercomputers, and ubiquitous high-definition video conferencing in that cartoon that have already arrived. They're part of the background of her stories now and no longer magical accessories.
Me? I can't wait to get an Apple Watch onto my wrist.
I still get a giddy little rush every time I use FaceTime and fully expect using an Apple Watch will feel the same. Its every use will remind me that I'm lucky enough to be living in the brightly colored Hanna-Barbera future of my childhood.
Of this, however, I am quite certain:
"Everyone talks using their watch, Dad," my daughter will one day tell me. "But me and my friends? We really like to (insert future neologism here) with them much, much more."