The "Cool" Dad

Ain't that an oxymoron-and-a-half?

When my daughter was younger, when I hosted sleep-overs (and parents, I'm warning you, always, ALWAYS invite an equal number of girls...never, EVER host just three. You're asking for trouble.), I always stuck my stupid self in the mix of things.

I never let the girls drink or smoke, but I kinda' think they were doing that on their own anyway. Yet there I was, using buzzy words and phrases ("I'd be so way down with that, home-fry, if it wasn't so cray-cray!"), acting kinda' dumb but believing I was cool.

Hey, the girls wanted to watch horror movies? No prob! As long as the flicks weren't too chock full of gratuitous nudity or  violence (kinda narrowed down our viewing choices). Pizza, you bet! Music? Man, I was up on all the alternative rock, could chat with the girls for hours. 

Problem was alt rock sorta became passe. So did I. And no one bothered to tell me.

When I used the word "hip" on my daughter, I kinda think that was the turning point.

"Dad, no one says 'hip' any more. If they ever did."

Now, the only "hip" around here is the one I'll break when I fall.

I sat back in my hoodie, scratched my soul patch, moved aside my beanie, made sure my tats were prominent, massaged my arthritic knee...and wondered when I got old.

Sometimes, you have to admit defeat.