When it comes to music, my tastes and those of my friend Mia were worlds apart—while she was lost in the soulful tunes of Dan Hill (and you know you want to sing along: “Sometimes when we touch / The honesty’s too much / And I have to close my eyes aaaaand cry…”) and endlessly spinning the “If” single by Bread, I was all about the Beatles, which she thought were too intense. Yes, THE BEATLES! My own mom wasn’t beside me in my room, raving about U2’s War or geeking out over Edge’s guitar solos. Fast forward to 2014, and parents everywhere are having these delightful chats with their elementary-school 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: Awesome! (Five minutes later) Okay, you’re done. Time to put the iPad away.
Them: But I’m not finished with my game!
Us: Off it goes.
Them: But I’m just about to get my stripey next to my wrapped candy!
Us (voice rising): What level are you on? Are you messing up my level 127?! HAND IT BACK!
Them: Mommmm! It’s MY turn!
You see, my mom plays Candy Crush. I play Candy Crush. Even my 8- and 5-year-olds are getting in on the action. If you haven’t tried Tiny Thief, you’re missing out—it’s a blast! Phineas & Ferb? Genius TV! I’d be best pals with the little Ninjago characters. I can’t lie—I genuinely enjoy Taylor Swift, and I know every song from Frozen and Matilda because it’s fun, not because I was forced by a singing snowman. My kids have even choreographed a dance to Miley Cyrus’ “Wrecking Ball” because it’s a family favorite. They also jam to Beck, Arcade Fire, Dolly Parton, Bob Dylan, Radiohead, and Beyoncé… the list goes on.
I understand that 8 is the new 15 and 40 is the new 13, but here’s the burning question: If parents and kids around the globe are vibing to the same tunes and sharing the same interests, are adults just getting younger, or are kids growing up faster?
Occasionally, while downloading yet another app, I worry that we adults are waging a futile fight against our own aging, trying to prove our worth in a world that seems to leave us behind. It feels like we’ve become that elderly woman in a mini skirt, clutching her smartphone as she tries to elbow the younger crowd out of the way. In the process, we might be raising a generation that sounds like Stewie from Family Guy, wearing skinny jeans over their diapers.
If everyone is reading the same post-apocalyptic vampire novels and trading playlists, what secrets will our tweens and teens hold back from us? What will be theirs alone, a true reflection of their lives? We’re narrowing their paths to rebellion; after all, isn’t it a rite of passage to feel misunderstood by your parents? Can they truly do that if we’re all enjoying front-row seats at a Katy Perry concert together?
It’s like if the flower children of the ’60s tuned into Perry Como, or if Judith Light grooved to Pearl Jam on Who’s the Boss—everything feels out of order! What will they be discussing in therapy in 25 years? That Mom was better at Minecraft? Or that Dad embarrassed them by saying Kanye was better after Kim than before?
I can’t predict what this all means for our kids, but I can share how it affects me. By my age, my mom was living her life freely—she could indulge in Loggins & Messina and wear sweatpants to any gathering, having earned that right. Society had deemed her responsible and mature, focusing on the next generation rather than worrying about pop culture. Essentially, she was considered old, irrelevant, and invisible—definitely not a target audience for anything fun.
Now, however, we’re expected to be more than just good parents; we must be cool ones too. I have to appear like I’m making an effort without overdoing it—Tom’s flats are fine, but the wedges? Those are for college girls. Comfort takes a backseat to style, and even if Eileen Fisher is forgiving and chic, I feel I can’t wear it. I’m supposed to know that Jack White is totally out of fashion, yet appreciate the retro irony of rocking out to the White Stripes. I can’t admit I love that catchy “Why You Gotta Be So Cruel” song; we have to roll up the windows if it plays while driving through the neighborhood. I know surgeons who use Emojis!
The pressure is real. Back in the ’80s, any adult glued to Frogger and cartoons was your stoner uncle with “some issues.” Now, that’s just Dad.
Children and parents have morphed into a hybrid: kids are savvy and witty, reminding us to update our devices, while we’re the responsible adults with a soft spot for youthful trends. We’re part of their world without overshadowing our own credibility—just enough to enhance it. Kids today are effortlessly stylish (geek chic, where were you when I needed you?), but we’re still pushing the “just be yourselves” mantra—except now we’re trying to emulate them too. Are 40-somethings insecure about our place in the cultural landscape, or is it simply an amazing era to be young?
You might say this is a problem of my own making. My kids shouldn’t be glued to the iPad, and I shouldn’t care about my jeans or music choices. But I love feeling connected and in the loop. Sharing pop culture with my kids is a joy—today’s entertainment is sharper, funnier, and more clever than ever, and there’s so much to explore together. Why should I let them have all the fun? Plus, if I’m at level 400 while they’re stuck at 296, they have no business giving me that tone of disdain. And if they do, I can always educate them on the nuances of explosive candy and send them to their rooms.
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Summary:
This article explores the evolving relationship between parents and children regarding pop culture and interests. As both generations find common ground in music, games, and entertainment, the lines blur between youthful rebellion and parental involvement. The author reflects on how this shift impacts societal expectations on adults, who now feel the pressure to remain relevant while raising their children. Sharing joys and experiences is essential, but it raises questions about the future of individuality and rebellion in a world where families engage in the same cultural phenomena.