I was informed earlier today that I made some special list. Twice. That's pretty exciting! One problem. In reviewing recent entries, I've determined that the "dad" component of "dadblog" is notably lacking. There's stuff about McCain and Jiffy Lube and zombies and such, but not a lot of touchingly funny anecdotes about fatherhood. As of late, the daddy stuff has been kept to a minumum, because like all dads I believe that I'm batting .500 in the Good Dad Department. Good if you're a baseball player, not so much if you are responsible for the moral, mental, and physical well-being of small children. Here is an example of my bad parenting, because I am one of those Honest and Courageous Writers that you hear so much about on Oprah.
My son, Lucas, whom some of you know, is a Rock Man. He does not cop to today's Pop Music. A song comes on the stereo (do people still say that? I'm reminded of the episode of The Beverly Hillbillies, where Jethro gets a stereo and keeps referring to it as The Hi-Fi. I am Jethro.) and Lucas will invariably ask, "Daddy, does this song rock out?" and I will answer "yes" or "no" depending. His tastes have evolved over the past few months (while he enjoys the Kanye song "American Boy", he would much rather listen to anything by The Roots. Four years old and he likes The Roots. Woot!) but there's still much he needs to learn. EXAMPLE: recently, in the Xterra (BEFORE IT DIED, JIFFY LUBE MOTHERFUCKERS) the song "The Story" by the talented Brandi Carlile came on, and after listening to the opening bars Lucas said to me "Daddy, this song doesn't rock out. It's a Girl Song."
EEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRKEEEEEK (sound of brakes squealing as I slam them in horror): "First, give it a second, because believe me, it rocks out, and second, a Girl Song? Do you think girls can't rock out? " Lucas: "Only boys can rock out!" Me: "Ohhhhh. My son. There is much that I still must teach you. Girls can and DO rock out. Kate Pierson! Johnette Napolitano! EXENE CERVENKA!" He paused, contemplating my words, and then Brandi and her band kicked in the electric guitars and she shrieked "I SWAM ALL ACROSS/THE OCEAN BLUE" and Lucas played his air drums and thrashed about like a freshly caught grouper on the deck of a small fishing boat.
I then realized that I have no B-52's, Concrete Blonde, or X in my iTunes Library.
I'm a bad father.