Cool

When I was young, I don't necessarily think I was all that cool.

I was definitely cooler than I am now.

I try to be a cool mom.

I'm not really all that cool, but I try.

I don't know how important it is to be cool, but I often hope that my kids think I'm cool.

I want my kids' friends to think I'm cool.

I'm also fine believing that my kids are also cool.

Little Billy asked me recently, "Mom, do you think I'm cool?"

Sitting in the front seat of the van, looking at my cute, dark-headed son in the rear view mirror, I said, "Define cool."

"Huh?" he says, a confused look on his face.

"Tell me what cool means. Define cool."

"You know - cool. Do you think I'm cool? Do I act cool. Do I look cool. Am I - cool?"

"Absolutely! You are cool," I said, smiling at my boy with the most confident smile.

"Define cool," he then says.

"Is this a trick?" I ask.

"No - I'm just curious what you think is so cool about me."

Hum. "I think everything is cool about you. Your hair is cool. Your personality is cool. Your clothes are cool. You are definitely cool," I say, trying to maintain my confident smile.

"You're not really the best person to ask - about cool - are you?" he says, totally innocent, but giggling a little too much.

"No."

On the upside ... :(

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