There comes a time when your kids grow up and you become a little less cool everyday. I think I dropped down about twenty notches on the 'Cool-o-Meter' today. Even bringing up the mythical 'Cool-o-Meter' probably makes me even lamer than I was earlier today.
In a burst of energy this afternoon (thanks to a P.D. day), I told my daughter to put on some Lady Gaga because "Mama wants to dance!". I know - that's what every kid wants to hear. So I start flailing around to Gaga's 'Poker Face' like a drunken college kid, much to the delight of my toddler. He's wiggling back and forth and loving every minute of it. Yay! Then, in a typical turn of events, I whack my knee off the kitchen cupboard door and do one of these:
Go, Mom.
Trying to save face in front of my toddler, I settle down and ask my ever-scrutinous 9-year-old daughter to pick some music and she chooses Adele. I suggest 'Hometown Glory', at which point she gives me this face:
... because that song is old. OLD.
Ok, then. I guess that kid is staying the heck away from the horror that is my iPod. Can you imagine the contorted face that would accompany her discovery of my Bob Dylan collection? Oh, vey.
It looks like I've got to pull up my leg warmers, put on some Katy Perry, and redeem myself.
In a burst of energy this afternoon (thanks to a P.D. day), I told my daughter to put on some Lady Gaga because "Mama wants to dance!". I know - that's what every kid wants to hear. So I start flailing around to Gaga's 'Poker Face' like a drunken college kid, much to the delight of my toddler. He's wiggling back and forth and loving every minute of it. Yay! Then, in a typical turn of events, I whack my knee off the kitchen cupboard door and do one of these:
Go, Mom.
Trying to save face in front of my toddler, I settle down and ask my ever-scrutinous 9-year-old daughter to pick some music and she chooses Adele. I suggest 'Hometown Glory', at which point she gives me this face:
 |
| Kristen Wiig, impersonating my incredulous daughter |
... because that song is old. OLD.
Ok, then. I guess that kid is staying the heck away from the horror that is my iPod. Can you imagine the contorted face that would accompany her discovery of my Bob Dylan collection? Oh, vey.
It looks like I've got to pull up my leg warmers, put on some Katy Perry, and redeem myself.
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