When I drive with my teenage son Jacob, I usually allow him to control the radio.  His choices are usually pretty good and surfing the radio makes him happy.  Sure we have our disagreements, but usually he tries to find a song that we will both enjoy.  Overall, it is a model power sharing arrangement.

Tonight, young Jacob was flummoxed.  He was truly having trouble finding a “good” song on the radio.  Finally, he settled on a song and declared it “okay.”  He would wait it out.

Listening to the song, I had to agree.  It was “okay.”  Not good.  Not bad.  I did however find myself beginning to enjoy the chorus.  Turning up the radio louder than I should, I began to sing along.  Sing along louder than I should.

“A-A
O-O
E-E
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
A-A
O-O
E-E
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh”

Note, these really are the lyrics.  I kid you not.  Poor Capital Cities has done better.  Think “Safe and Sound.”  This song however, entitled “Vowels,” was indeed just “okay.”

I however felt that I was really nailing it.  I dare say that I could belt out vowels in the car with the best of them.  Hold me back or I just may start singing “Old MacDonald.”

Having fun and feeling somewhat proud to be making something fun from the song, I turned to my son.  He was not singing.  He  was looking straight ahead.  Not a look of suffering, although I could understand someone mistaking it for that.  No, this was disdain.  Pure and simple teen disdain.

I had moved the needle from “okay” to “disdain.”  The work of a teenager’s father, well done.