I’m not going to be a cool dad. There, I’ve said it!
Maybe not news to anyone who knows me, but recently the boys had convinced me otherwise.
Sonny thinks it cool that I can remove his nose then screw it back on.
Luca finds it cool that I can juggle.
It wasn’t that long ago that my nephews thought it cool that I used to be a WWE wrestler by the name of ‘The Willy Warmer’, with a signature move called the ‘Back, Sack, and Crack’.
My confidence was such that I was convinced that in their teenage years my boys would invite me into their room to introduce their mates to my old Smiths vinyl, or to tell them about the time I saw an unsigned Arctic Monkeys or The Arcade Fire play a half-full basement in Manchester.
Then last week I commented on a chart song being just noise. I also referred to a stereo as a ‘Boombox’?
I used to hold my own on a games console. Recently I referred to such devices as ‘Electronicals’. I also threw down a controller in frustration when the explanation of how to play went beyond left, right, and jump.
I’m ashamed to admit that today I uttered the cringe-worthy line,
“If you eat any more grapes you’ll turn into one!”
It was met with the disdain it deserved.
I’m not bitter. In hindsight I was never going to be a cool dad if I wasn’t ever cool in the first place.
What I will be though is an embarrassing dad, that I am confident about.
Confident because I already have a lengthy list of ways I intend to embarrass them.
Confident because when I think about it now I’m already chuckling to myself.
Confident because that’s what dads do without trying; and I fully intend to try, and try very, very, hard.