My oldest discovered the Beatles from her car seat, and it reminded me that the things we love are worth handing down on purpose.
If you've ever heard your own words come out of your kid's mouth, you know how much of fatherhood gets handed down without anyone deciding to. They pick up your phrases, your habits, your reactions to traffic. Most of it you'd never put on a list of things you meant to teach.
But every so often you get to pass something down that you actually love. For me it happened on the drive home from getting popsicles.
The back seat
We were heading home from a popsicle run and I was singing Hey Jude. My six year old daughter heard it from her car seat and started dancing. Somewhere along the way she found out one of the Beatles was named Ringo Starr, and she loved that name. Of all the things a six year old could take away from the Beatles, she went straight for the drummer's name. I respect it.
And then she asked for more. More old music, in my car.
There's a reason that landed with me the way it did. My history of sharing the Beatles with people my age is not great.
A tough crowd
When I was a kid, I brought the Beatles White Album to a CD burning party. If you missed that era, a CD burning party was where everyone brought their music and made copies for each other. I brought a double album from 1968.
I wasn't invited back.
So it took me a while to find my audience. Turns out she's six and rides in my back seat.
What I'm learning
We spend a lot of energy as parents finding things our kids will like. The right show, the right sport, the right activity for their age. That's good and it matters. But I don't think I've spent nearly as much time inviting my kids into the things I like.
And kids want in. I think part of what she loved in that car was the song, and part of it was watching her dad enjoy something. She got to see a side of me that isn't about bedtime or shoes or "we're going to be late." She got to see what makes me happy, and she wanted some of it.
That's a different kind of passing something down. It isn't a lesson or a lecture. Nobody sat her down to explain why the Beatles matter. She caught me enjoying something, and she asked to come along.
The car turns out to be a great place for this. You're side by side, nobody has to make eye contact, nobody can leave, and the music is already on.
And it doesn't have to be music. Maybe it's the pancakes you make on Saturday mornings, a team you've cheered for since you were a kid, a trail you love, or a board game you were unbeatable at in grade six. Whatever it is, it's part of who you were before they came along, and kids are curious about that person.
It also made me think about what I want my kids to remember about me when they're grown. I hope they remember the big things. But I'd love for them to hear Hey Jude somewhere when they're thirty and think of the drive home with popsicles.
Try this week
Pick one thing you loved before you were a dad. A band, a game, a sport, a recipe, a movie you could quote word for word. This week, let your kids catch you enjoying it. Don't sell it to them. Just do it where they can see, and leave the door open for them to join.
When they ask about it, tell them your story with it. Skip the history lesson and tell them where you were when you first heard it or played it, who you shared it with, and why it stuck. That's the part that turns a song into something of yours they get to keep.
A few questions to help you pick:
- What did you love at their age that you've never shown them?
- Where are you already side by side with your kids? The car, the kitchen, the garage, the walk to school?
- When they ask "what is this?", what's the story you'd tell them about why you love it?
If they don't bite, that's fine. My track record says the first audience isn't always the right one. Try again next week with something else, or the same thing on a better day.
What's one thing you love that you'd want your kids to love too? Have you let them hear it yet?
