OK, so when did I get so old?

OK, I think it all started with a conversation I had with my nine-year-old not too long ago. "How old are you Daddy?" she asked with an innocence that was reflected in most of the questions that she bombards me with every time we're together. "37," I replied not thinking anything about it. Her eyes got wide with amazement and without hesitation she blurted, "Wow Daddy, you're really old!" Me, old!? I hadn't really thought about it until now how my kids pictured me age-wise. Granted, there are lots of times I feel old but there is a big difference in feeling and being. After four children I must admit I often feel the wear and tear. I often remark to friends (whom as a single parent and male to boot look at me with a sympathy reserved for those much less fortunate than I) that age can be viewed much like buying a used car: it's not so much the age as the mileage. Sometimes I feel like I have a lot of miles on this ole chassis.

So how do I relate to these kids of mine who range from adolescent, to puberty stricken, to young adult? After all, I still have all of my hair and most of my teeth! I pondered this for awhile and then got a brainstorm: I'll learn their language. That's the ticket! Walk the walk and talk the talk, so to speak. OK, some ideas are much better in theory than they are in practice. The first few times I tried to ease a word or phrase into a conversation my kids looked at me in horror first, then in embarrassment to their friends to see if they had heard me. OK, so maybe using phrases like, "that's phat!" or "wuz up," didn't quite sound the same coming from me. Not to mention that it took me a week to figure out what phat was and another to learn how it was spelled. I think it's supposed to be along the same lines of what was cool in my heyday. Enough said, we don't speak the same language and I have no business trying to.

My second great brainstorm came with great sacrifice for me, the mall. Maybe it's a guy thing but it is one of my least favorite places to go. That's the ticket, I thought. My kids love the mall! I'll take them there and hang out. Thoughts of my kid's friends thinking what a phat dad I was had me with visions of Dad of the Year accolades at the local game arcade. OK, second mistake. It did not take me long to learn that the last place kids want to be seen with their parents is in public where the possibility of running into their friends exists. I had to walk a good twenty paces behind them and dodge into the nearest store if one of their friends approached. Of course if they needed something I was allowed to approach once the coast was clear with checkbook in hand! The only exception is my nine-year-old. She still walks proudly with me wherever we go. If only I could keep her nine.

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