Hide and Seek... and Olivia Rodrigo
There is a special feeling you get playing hide and seek as an adult.
And it’s not embarrassment.
There’s also a special feeling you get when you bust out Olivia Rodrigo lyrics with your 14 year old daughter.
Again, not embarrassment.
It’s actually the exact opposite.
It’s confidence.
Because that’s what daughters do.
They bring out the dad in you.
The confident dad. The goofy dad. The anti-fashionable dad.
Sometimes it’s not by choice. (Those tucked in sweaters just sneak up on you).
But they make you comfortable to be you. (The daughter, not the sweater)
And I’ll say it.
I’m a girl dad.
I’m like the Rock (with less muscles). I’m like Adam Sandler (with less money). I’m like Kobe (with less helicopters).
And within one year of each other, this girl dad played hide and seek and went to an Olivia Rodrigo concert with his daughter.
Bad idea, right?
Nope. Best idea ever.
The hide and seek started innocently enough.
We were in the lobby of a hotel in Austin, Texas during one of my Be the Nice Kid visits, (I’m lucky enough to travel the world and sometimes I get to bring my kids) when my daughter had her best idea of the weekend. Maybe her best idea ever.
“Want to play hide and seek?”
1000% yes. Let’s do this.
Usually when you chase a 14 year old around a hotel, you get arrested.
But this was different. This was my new favorite crime.
And it was awesome.
Running through the halls, yelling “can’t catch me now”, getting strange looks from people (and a few smiles. Don’t worry we were thoughtful of the other guests), it brought back the kid in me. That deja vu feeling of being fun and goofy and carefree (although some would say I’m still like that).
It made me realize there is a joy in being you, now, and relishing the present, when nothing else matters.
And it brought back leg pain and lots of sweat, because, dude, I’m a dad now.
I was happy.
And seeing my daughter’s face, she was even happier.
My dad told me a secret once.
He told me that any time I would ask him to play (when I was a kid) or go to lunch (when I was in college), he’d say yes.
Even if he didn’t want to, even if it wasn’t that logical, he’d say yes. Because he knew it mattered.
He knew we could have conversations during those times that would make a difference.
He knew that spending time together was important, not just for my growth, but his too.
I get that now as a dad, watching my nice kids grow into nice teenagers (and hopefully nice adults).
Because between forcing our kids into cleaning their room, and making the bed, and washing the dishes, we also have to make time for them, and their interests, and join in what makes them happy.
Which brings us to the concert.
This is not a review of the Olivia Rodrigo show at Xcel Energy Center in St. Paul, MN on Friday, March 15, 2024, but if it was… this show is in my top 10. (And I’ve seen a lot). Just go see her next time and save a ticket for me.
It probably wasn’t my daughter’s teenage dream to bring along her 45 year old dad to a show with 15,000 other 14 year old girls. (I counted. That’s how many there were), but I was the one with the driver’s license, so she didn’t have a choice.
Plus it was her fault anyway for introducing me to her songs 3 years ago.
“Hey dad, remember that girl from Bizaardvark? She has an album out. Want to listen to it?”
Side note: Bizaardvark was the start of the humor that my daughter and I share. We were obsessed with this show. Weird sketches, subtle jokes, some kid who dressed up like a vampire. Oh, and Jake Paul was there. I know.
The concert night started with a little meal at one of our favorite Italian places with 2000 of our closest friends, because, man, that place was packed. And we were hungry, hungry hippos, so we felt a little jealousy, jealousy of those people ahead of us in line. (This weird mention will make sense in 59 more sentences)
But I’m always on the search for the good, so when some random guy opened the door for my daughter, she raced ahead and opened the next door to get him back.
And when she ordered her food, she used please and thank you consistently. That stuff makes me proud. (hint, hint… celebrate positive behavior).
When you’re a teenager, everything can be embarrassing. Dads can be embarrassing (I do it on purpose sometimes. It’s the joy of having kids!). Ordering food can be embarrassing.
Sometimes even the thing they love is embarrassing. My daughter loves lots of things that others may think are “weird.”
Good.
Be weird. Be you. And be nice.
Good for you for trying. Good for you for making mistakes. Good for you for being you.
If there’s anything I want my kids to be, it’s themselves. Then nothing is embarrassing.
I wish that for you too. Enjoy who you are and what you do. If it’s enough for you, it’s enough for anybody.
Comparison is the killer. We look to see what others have. We see what we don’t. We feel bitter. We feel jealous. Then we try to be someone else in the past rather than you in the present. And the grudge hurts more than the grace.
Sometimes we feel like athletic isn’t athletic enough. Or smart isn’t smart enough. Or pretty isn’t pretty enough. But it is. And you are enough.
After our meal, we went to the show, where the merch lines were longer than the necks on the kids that my illustrator, Wendy, drew from our award winning book, Be Nice. The End. Simple Wisdom of the Playground Kids. Subtle, right? Nah, that was kind of brutal. But it’s available on our site or Amazon. Okay, I’m done.
We weaved our way through the stadium, dodging every Maddie and Lily and Lacy and probably some name that ends in EIGH, but should really end in EY. And I was giving the homie head nod to all the other dads, as if to say, “You got this brother.”
Along the way we found some non Haribo gummy bears, my stomach yelling “traitor,” as I chomped each of the imposters (although they were pretty good).
Then we got to our seats.
My daughter was able to hear one of her favorite songs right away, Ballad of a Homeschooled Girl. I had to wait until the end to hear one of my favs, All-American B*tch. (watch the SNL version. It rules).
For an hour and half, we sang, we laughed, we smiled, and we did it together.
I’ve tried to teach my daughter a lot of things. Manners, generosity, cribbage, sarcasm.
She gets it.
And she teaches me every day too.
Because she is her own person, who makes mistakes, and helps people, and tells jokes, and tries her best.
And she’ll keep being herself.
That’s what matters most.
When she asks for help, I’ll be there.
When she wants to teach me, I’ll listen.
And when she hides, I’ll seek.
Talk soon,
Bryan
P.S. Here’s the setlist for the Olivia Rodrigo show in MN. Now go reread the story and find them all. Have fun!
bad idea right?
ballad of a homeschooled girl
vampire
traitor
drivers license
teenage dream
pretty isn’t pretty
love is embarrassing
making the bed
logical
enough for you
lacy
jealousy, jealousy
can’t catch me now
happier
favorite crime
deja vu
the grudge
brutal
obsessed
all-american b*tch
good 4 u
get him back!