“Uh oh,” I think to myself. “Am I running late?” A quick glance at my wrist reveals I’m on time.
As my daughter hops into the car, I lower the volume on the radio. “I could hear that music all the way from over there!” she snaps. “You’re so cringeworthy.”
Had I been jamming to Bruno Mars or Maroon 5, she might have been indifferent, but alas, I was blasting Kansas—“Carry On My Wayward Son,” baby! How can you not turn that up? She should consider herself lucky I wasn’t playing air drums too.
I’ve discovered that these days, it takes very little to embarrass my 13-year-old. It wasn’t always like this. When they’re younger, kids adore your silly side. You’re the fun parent! I fondly remember those drives to preschool, belting out tunes like “Under The Sea” or “I Like To Move It.” Later, I introduced her to better music, and we sang along to “It’s Tricky” and “Should I Stay Or Should I Go?” But then, a fateful day arrived.
Kiki and I were grocery shopping when I unwittingly joined in to a Lionel Richie classic playing overhead. I might have even been dancing a little.
We’re going to… party, karamu, fiesta, for—
“STOP THAT!”
Her reaction took me by surprise; I anticipated laughter.
“What? Am I embarrassing you?”
She whispered, “YES.”
And just like that, the era of the fun parent came crashing down. It wasn’t just me; my partner shared similar stories of Kiki’s sudden shaming. We had officially entered a parental milestone: the moment your child begins to feel ashamed of you.
For a while, we made an effort to spare our daughter’s dignity and avoided goofing off in public. However, as she dove deeper into her tween years, her self-consciousness grew, and she quickly criticized us for any action that could draw attention. By the time she hit her teenage years, even our most innocent behaviors—smiling, blinking, breathing—seemed to mortify her. Eventually, my partner and I realized we couldn’t win, so we decided to embrace our new role: embarrassing our teenager was not just our right but our duty!
Let’s not forget, Kiki had her moments of making us feel ashamed too. I still vividly recall the epic meltdown she had at an arts festival when she was two, a scene so dramatic that the band on stage paused mid-performance. Or the time she yelled at a smoker outside Quiznos when she was four, proclaiming that cigarettes were bad for you. And who could forget her belting out “Look at me, I’m Sandra Dee, lousy with virginity” in the town library at age five, revealing that one of her parents (cough) let her watch Grease too early?
So yes, it was our turn now, and it’s downright delightful—and shockingly easy. A simple call of her pet name, Kiki-loo, in front of her friends, or showing up at school dressed in sweatpants does the trick.
Two nights ago, we were driving back from dinner when “Wanna Be Startin’ Somethin’” came on the radio. Oh, you know we started dancing in our seats, heads bobbing and all.
“Stop,” Kiki demanded. Naturally, we kept going.
I said you wanna be startin’ somethin’
You got to be startin’ somethin’
You wanna be startin’ somethin’
You got to be startin’ somethin’
“STOP!” she yelled again. But we were having too much fun.
“Why?” I asked. “No one can see us.”
It didn’t matter to her; she was mortified.
As the chorus rolled around, my partner and I took it up a notch with a call-and-response routine.
Her: Someone’s always tryin’
Me: To start my baby cryin’
Her: Talkin’, squealin’, lyin’
Both in unison: Sayin’ you just want to be startin’ somethin’.
Just then, a car pulled up next to us at the light. The passengers didn’t even notice our antics, but Kiki looked like she might burst into tears. Out of sympathy, I turned down the radio, and we halted our dance party.
Moments later, we parked in the driveway. Kiki stormed out, clearly annoyed, and headed toward the house. Meanwhile, Michael Jackson continued to play. I rolled down the window.
“Don’t leave!” I called out. “You’re gonna miss the best part.”
I cranked the volume back up. My partner and I sang and clapped along—
Mama-se mama-sa ma-ma-ku-sa!
Mama-se mama-sa ma-ma-ku-sa!
Kiki shot us a withering look, dashed inside, and slammed the door. We kept singing.
In conclusion, while the teenage years may bring a wave of embarrassment for both parties, it can be a source of joy for parents. So, why not embrace the role of the mortifying parent? It’s fun, and it strengthens the bond through laughter—just don’t forget to check out resources like this one that can help with family planning!
Keyphrase: Embarrassing My Teenager
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