As a parent in my early 30s, there is no greater dilemma in childrearing than the one I face when Regulate comes on the radio and the kids are in the car.
You’ve been there, you know you have. It might be a different song, but those first few beats come across the factory speakers in your third-row-seat-havin’ SUV or, better yet, sensible mini, and, even if only in your head, you say, “Ohhhhhhhh, shit!” and start pumpin those shoulders and swayin like it’s the early 2000s on penny pitchers night. I certainly don’t know all the words. It doesn’t really matter, does it? I still feel like a badass. Is it the best parenting move … debatable. Is it necessary for my spirit … oh, 100 percent.
It’s a crossroads we all face at some point: To Mount Up! with Warren G. and Nate Dogg, or switch it to Taylor Freaking Swift and trade in a piece of your soul so your four year old can mumble through Blank Space for the 75th time that day. I think you know what I do. We don’t have to say it. Parenting is full of tough choices.
What’s your song? C’mon now … let that freak flag fly!