My childhood soundtrack was quite different from my daughter Mia’s. While she was lost in the melodic embrace of Dan Hill (and yes, I can hear you humming: “Sometimes when we touch / The honesty’s too much / And I have to close my eyes aaaaand cry…”) and practically wore out her 8-track of Bread, I was cranking up the Beatles, who apparently were “too hard” for her. Back when I was 12 or 13, my mom wasn’t sitting next to me, engrossed in U2’s War and exclaiming, “I’m so pumped about that Edge solo.”
Fast forward to 2014, and parents everywhere are having this familiar exchange with their elementary-aged kids:
Us: Can you hop on Spotify and add “Shake It Off” to our Sunday playlist?
Them: Sure, just let me finish this level.
Us: Thanks! (Five minutes later.) Okay, time to stop the iPad now.
Them: But I’m almost done!
Us: Turn it off.
Them: I’m about to get my stripey candy!
Us (voice rising): What level are you on? Are you messing up my level 127?! GIVE ME BACK THE iPAD!
Them: MommmmmUH! It’s MY turn!
My mom plays Candy Crush; I play Candy Crush; my 8- and 5-year-olds play Candy Crush. Have you tried Tiny Thief? That game is sooo fun! Phineas & Ferb? Brilliant! And yes, I admit I enjoy Taylor Swift, and I sing along to every song from Frozen and Matilda willingly—not because a snowman is holding me hostage. My kids even put together a dance number to Miley Cyrus’ “Wrecking Ball,” because we all vibe with that track. They also jam out to Beck, Arcade Fire, Dolly Parton, Bob Dylan, Radiohead, and Beyoncé. The list goes on!
I get it; 8 is the new 15, and 40 is the new 13. It’s incredible that my children and I share so many interests and cultural references. But I can’t help but wonder: if parents and kids everywhere are into the same things, are parents simply becoming younger, or are kids maturing faster?
Every now and then, as I download a new app, I worry that we adults are engaged in a futile battle against our own aging and dwindling relevance. My peers and I are like that old lady in a miniskirt, clutching her smartphone, elbowing the younger generation out of the spotlight. In doing so, we might be raising a generation of kids who quote Stewie from Family Guy while sporting skinny jeans over their diapers.
If we’re all diving into the same post-apocalyptic vampire novels and trading playlists, what will our tweens and teens have left to keep as their own? What will they use to rebel against us? If we’re all having a blast at a Katy Perry concert together, where’s the space for typical teenage angst? It’s like if hippies were bopping along to Perry Como or Judith Light jammed out to Pearl Jam on Who’s the Boss—everything feels out of whack. What will kids talk about in therapy years down the line? That Mom was a whiz at Minecraft? That Dad played that Band of Horses song on repeat and argued about Kanye’s best era?
I can’t predict what this means for our children, but I know what it signifies for me. By the time my mother reached my age, she was liberated. She could indulge in Loggins & Messina without a care. She wore sweatpants as a badge of honor, having earned the right to be comfortable at any occasion. No one expected more from her; society saw her as responsible and mature. In other words, she was “old,” overlooked, and not a target market for anything trendy.
Now, the expectation is not just to be good parents but to also be “cool” parents. I need to appear like I’m trying, but not too hard—that means opting for Tom’s flats instead of wedges, which are deemed for college kids. Comfort mustn’t triumph over style, so even if I could splurge on Eileen Fisher, I’m not “allowed” to wear it. I should be aware that Jack White is “lame,” yet ironically listening to the White Stripes is acceptable. I have to hide my love for that catchy “Why You Gotta Be So Cruel” song, rolling up the windows when it plays in the car. I know people in high-powered jobs who unironically use Emojis.
The pressure is unreal. In the ‘80s, any adult who played Frogger and watched cartoons was just the stoner uncle living in the basement. Now that’s just Dad!
Children and adults have morphed into a hybrid; kids are clever and sarcastic, reminding us to update our devices, while we’re mature bill-payers with tastes that lean juvenile. We are part of their world, but not too much—just enough to keep our credibility intact. Kids are effortlessly cool now, and we’re sending them the same “just be yourselves” message while we scramble to mimic their coolness. Are we 40-somethings feeling insecure about our place in pop culture, or is it an amazing time to be young?
You might think this is a problem of my own making. Perhaps my children shouldn’t be on the iPad, and I shouldn’t care about the jeans I wear or the music I listen to. But I enjoy being connected and sharing experiences with my kids. Today’s pop culture is wittier and more insightful than ever, and there’s so much to explore. Why should kids have all the fun? Besides, if I’m at level 400 and they’re still stuck at 296, they’ve got no right to mock me. If they do, I can always give them a lesson on explosive candy with sprinkles and send them to their rooms!
In conclusion, our generational lines are blurring, and while it’s great to share interests, it raises questions about individuality and the natural rebellion of youth. As we embrace cultural overlaps, we must also consider what that means for the future of parent-child dynamics.
Keyphrase: generational overlap in parenting
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