Hey, there! It’s so nice to meet you at this back-to-school thing for our kindergarteners that we’re all just milling around at, alternating between looking at the ground and smiling blankly into the middle distance.
Look at our children over there on the playground, showing more social aptitude than we are. Aren’t kids just the best?
Anyway, I’m Cool Dad, this is Cool Mom, and yes, we are the Cool Parents.
I’m sure you’ve heard of us: Brayden’s our son, the one over there covered in strawberry jelly and smacking himself in the butt with a stick.
We’re almost in our 40s – but not yet! – and we’re teetering on the verge of emotional collapse, but I can assure you that we are, in fact, the cool ones.
Jen and Kip may try to claim superior coolness, but don’t believe a word they say.
Let me be the first to tell you: beware. We hung out with them for a couple months, but, well, don’t anymore. I’ll just leave it at that.
I’ll now make some casual allusions about how Cool Mom and I used to attend music festivals, to give you an idea of how cool we used to be, and – don’t worry – still are.
We still go to music festivals, but the kid-friendly ones where they only allow alcohol in roped-off areas.
Where did you say you just moved from? Seattle? That’s so cool! We used to live in Asheville, which is pretty cool in its own right.
Oh, I know, it’s a huge adjustment moving to a small town from a big ci–
BRAYDEN, STOP LICKING THE SEESAW. THIS IS WHY YOU GET SICK. IF YOU DO IT AGAIN WE’RE GOING HOME.
Sorry: kids, amirite?
Anyway, did you live on, like, the outskirts of Seattle? Oh, you lived downtown. How cool!
What’s that? Oh no, we didn’t actually live in Asheville, more like 45 minutes west, but we used to go into the city all the time and make little comments to each other about how the unhoused people playing bongos in the street didn’t bother us at all.
But wow, Seattle … we stopped there on a road trip we took before we had kids (remember those days?!) and there was that huge market – what’s it called again? – where the big hairy guys who work there hurl wrapped fish at customers like here’s your halibut, jerk, now get the hell out!
Maybe it wasn’t that severe, but that’s how I remember it.
That was such an experience, though, and also, ah, what’s the word I’m looking for … cool.
Cool’s really a weird word when you think about it, one of those words that starts to sound deformed the more you say it: cool, COOL, cooooool.
But man, downtown Seattle, that’s incredible. If we’re not careful, they’re going to start calling y’all the cool parents. Ha.
I heard you mention earlier that you need some restaurant recommendations. There’re a ton of good places here, a lot more than you’d expect from a small town like ours, none of which we’ve been to within the past six months because we have a 5-year-old who can’t sit still for more than 15 seconds and attempts to use every object within reach as a percussive instrument.
BRAYDEN, STOP SHOWING YOUR NIPPLES TO JACKSON. I DON’T CARE IF HE’S LAUGHING. PERSONAL. SPACE. HOW MANY TIMES DO WE HAVE TO TELL YOU?
This Boy Energy: I swear to God.
Anywho, we should definitely have a night out sometime, just us adults, even though babysitters these days cost, like, $100 per half-hour, so you basically have to sell a limb on the black market if you want to afford a nice dinner plus a couple hours of childcare.
What’s that? Good sushi? Eh, no, we don’t have a good sushi place. But Martin’s is half-off on Wednesdays, and their stuff’s actually pretty good! Kroger, too.
Korean? No, we don’t have that either, but we do have like 17 Mexican places, all of which have 4.1 stars on Google.
African? Are you kidding me?
Kind of makes you miss Seattle, doesn’t it? Ha. But anyway.
Oh, yes, we hate screen time, too. Screen time is bad, bad, bad.
Jen and Kip’s kid already has a cell phone. Can you believe that? So sad.
We used to do screen time with Brayden, but every time we did, he’d turn into a rabid lagoon creature who’d threaten to maul us if we took his precious screen from him.
So, we don’t do screens at all anymore. Unless he’s sick, then we let him watch TV. Or if we’re tired, we’ll throw on a movie or something.
And OK, if we’re at a restaurant and he won’t stop drumming on our elbows with silverware, we’ll let him watch Bluey on our phones.
But other than that, no screen time at all. It’s not good for their brai–
BRAYDEN, I SAW YOU LICK THE SEESAW AGAIN. THAT’S IT, WE’RE GOING HOME. I’M HOLDING YOUR HAND AND WE’RE WALKING AWAY BECAUSE WHAT YOU’RE DOING IS NOT SAFE. STOP SAYING OW, I’M NOT HURTING YOU. STOP IT. YOU NEED TO STOP IT.
OK! Well, we’re going to get out of here! SOMEBODY didn’t have their nap today.
But let’s exchange numbers. I’m sure we’ll see you again soon. Or we won’t see you again for six months, and when we do, it’ll be at another school-based thing, and we’ll stand around and talk about how long it’s been since we’ve seen each other and that we definitely need to hang out, then not see each other for another six months, likely at the next school-based thing.
Either way it’s fine. We’re fine. It’s all fine.
Here’s my number. You can put me in your phone as K-E-W-L D-A-D.
Shoot me a text if you wanna hang out, that way I can stare at your message with a crushing anxiety in my gut as I try to conjure an excuse for why I can’t do it right now, but maybe – definitely – sometime soon, when life stops being so hectic.
And if you see Jen and Kip, well, you already know how we feel about them. I don’t think I need to say it again.
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