MyThreeDaughters

I’m going to document this, so I know the exact day that it happened.
It was Saturday. I had long had an itch to hear “Benny and the Jets,” and I had gotten an iTunes gift card for Christmas (Should I make like a real blogger and link to iTunes? Nah.) and I downloaded it. I plugged my iPod into our Bose Sounddock (Again, nah) and started playing it.
Fontaine had recently shown an interest in the piano, and I pointed out the piano parts, as I took a trip back to riding on the school bus in the ’70s and hearing that song.
Fontaine feigned interest. It was an extremely mild form of feigning.
I looked at her. I looked at Elizabeth.
“I know,” I said, “someday you’re going to tell your friends: My dad was so un-cool. He made us listen to old music all the time…
I barely finished, when:
“You’re already not cool, Dad.”
“Yeah,” Elizabeth chimed in. “You’re not cool, Dad.”
(Context: They’re six and four.)
I’m not? I thought I was hanging in there. Oh wait, I mean, “still could kick it.” I might be slow, but I can text.
I may not link, but I do blog.
This is so discouraging.
I’m going to have to find a way to get my cool on.
Wonder how I’d look with a Hannah Montana backpack?
They still call them “backpacks,” don’t they?