One of the best perks of running my own law firm is the ability to wear what I want when I don’t have any client or networking meetings. Last week, I had one of those “wear what I want” days and I grabbed some jeans out of my closet. I still considered myself pretty cool that morning as I put on those Lucky Brand jeans.

 

 

The kids are bouncing off the walls trying to get ready for school. I usually take the kids to school before I head into work. Every morning its the same drill.

“Can you make me toast?”
“I need you to sign this permission slip.”
“Dad, you need to go to the grocery store today, we have no cereal.”

Becca then announces to the house that we have 30 minutes before we have to leave.

“Can you help me with my math?”
“Dad, Samantha doesn’t like me.”
“Becca used up all the bread.”

Twenty minutes.

“Ben is watching SportsCenter instead of getting in the shower.”
“Tattletale!”
“BEN, you are so mean!”

Ten minutes.

“I want milkie and Micky Mouse.”
“Dad, when are you going to get in the shower?”
“DAD, HURRY!”

The morning usually ends with Becca, hands on her hips, waiting impatiently while I quickly slip on my shoes and throw some hair stuff in my hair so it looks halfway presentable. So it’s no surprise that I forgot my belt with my non-skinny jeans and headed out the door.

I realized that I forgot my belt a few hours later when my jeans had stretched out just enough to start falling down as I walked down the hall of my building. No problem, the kids had a half day that day and Jenny needed me to pick them up so I could just grab a belt when I dropped them off to Jenny at the house. I walked straight over to my closet when we got home to grab a belt. As I am reaching up to grab the belt, my casual button down shirt raises up just a little bit and exposes the clothing malfunction that I have been dealing with all day. Right at that moment, Ben comes around the corner, unaware that I am grabbing a belt out of my closet, and simply says “Dad, you aren’t cool enough to sag” and walks casually down the hall.

WHAT? I am the coolest. I mean, I take you guys to Dairy Queen after school sometimes. I let you watch an extra 10 minutes of a baseball game before you go to bed. I buy you the sugar cereal at the store. As I tried to conjure up all the justifications about why I was still cool, my coolness floated farther away. The fact is that I don’t wear flat billed hats and elite socks. Apparently the fist bump and “blowing it up” isn’t what the cool kids do. So, I have given myself a new moniker and have gladly accepted the new reality that I am DAD COOL. Surprisingly, I am more than just okay with it. I love it.

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