Ive developed all sorts of parenting techniques that fail miserably. I usually stress about how my life has taken so many twists and turns, that I wouldnt be an expert in anything. However, I can relax, and actually basque in the fact I have mastered the art of failing when it comes to parenting. Ive managed brief moments of authentic, personal grace and acceptance in this abysmal failure. Ive embraced the art of the flopped moment. The inexcusable tyranny, the over-teasing, the distasteful disdain, the overbearing and smothering caretaker, the genuine cluelessness. Its a bit of an art form when I nail it. This past week i had one of those moments. Ive removed any sense of self-decency when attempting to skool Nate, Ben, and Nicole in some classic(?!) rock. We were heading home from a swimming practice late one evening, and I had Guns n Roses blaring their driving anthem, Paradise City. Now they pretend to hate this. They ask me to turn on the radio pretty much every time I get in the car, and yet, they know full well and good Im going to hijack their top 40 garbage, and put on some respectable music. Something with soul; something that jams. They know this. I do this literally every single time they ask me to turn on the radio when Im driving home from swimming. Yet, they persist. And like any good parent would, I honor their request. I turn on the radio, and of course its turned on to some abomination of real music. Unless you count Taylor Swift. Shes okay, if the mood strikes me, or Im really trying to embarrass them with something modern. That garbage is played enough I can memorize most of the lyrics. I do a mean Shake it off! So, we are passing through the swimming complexs long, speed-bump riddled driveway, and their asking, nay literally begging me, to turn the radio on. I smile inside big and wide. I know what this means. It means, Find that frequency where they play all that real music. And then Daddy, please do that cool thing you do! Sing and dance while youre driving! Its so amazing that you know every single word to every single song that comes on. Im so mesmerized by how awesome you are! Like any good father, I comply. I give them what the want. I give them what theyve been looking forward to for the last hour and a half. Who am I to deny them of this? Now, I have to be honest. Sometimes I get a little concerned. I get concerned that maybe- just maybe- they dont appreciate all the music. I mean, I know they love most of it, and they obviously love how I sing and do my moves. But, maybe its is too much to absorb all at once. Its like drinking from the firehose of awesomeness. Then, I look over to Ben, sitting hunched over, face buried into his towel, with his chlorine-stiffened locks blowing in the warm winter gulfs breeze as he rolls his window down and yells, Im rolling down the window, Dad!. And then, I know it. He wants everyone to see whats going down. He wants everyone to know how frickin cool his dad is. I just know. Im doing this shit right.
Posted on: Mon, 08 Dec 2014 02:32:19 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015