Why I use Gen Z and Gen Alpha lingo with my kids, even when they roll their eyes

“Alright, I think I totally nailed that and aura farmed, am I right?” I said, beaming with pride at the back-cam wefie I’d just taken that had actually turned out well.

My 16-year-old daughter Kirsten, bless her, fought off every instinct to roll her eyes – an effort I appreciated deeply – and replied with a straight face: “No, actually. Just by saying that, you lost aura points.”

“Huh, so it wasn’t sigma?” I asked, grinning. “You didn’t like the rizz-sults?”

This time, her eye roll came not as a conscious decision but a gag reflex.

“Dad,” she said. “Just. Stop.”

“Okay, merry rizzmas,” I muttered, dashing away before I cracked myself up entirely.

BOOMERS ARE OKAY

I envy boomers. And I don’t mean that sarcastically.

It’s not so much for their ability to craft and broadcast “Good Morning, God Bless You” WhatsApp messages faster than they can open the app, but their complete, unadulterated embrace of being… uncool.

I’m talking about the (mostly) utter lack of desire to stay relevant in the face of contemporary cultural shifts – whether it’s fashion, pop culture, or TikTok. There’s a certain beauty in being completely disconnected from new fads and trends. These are people living their best life, in a very real way.

But Gen X dads like me grew up with the currency of cool as a core key performance indicator of our self-identity. It’s partly us wanting to define ourselves outside of our parents, and partly our unique positioning as a generation birthed at the dawn of consumerism and globalisation. 

We grew up with movies centred on exploring the idea and value of “cool” – Back to the Future, Grease and more. We wanted to “be like Mike”, whether it was Michael Jordan in his Nikes or Michael Jackson with his smooth moves.

TOO COOL FOR SCHOOL

So here’s the tension: I know I don’t need to be cool to be a good dad – but still, I can’t help but try. And yes, sometimes that effort backfires in the form of second-hand embarrassment (or, occasionally, first-hand).

But recently, as I try to keep up with a whole new host of Gen Z and Gen Alpha lingo, I’ve been realising that this struggle goes beyond the superficial. It’s not about being cool for cool’s sake.

Let’s be honest – if you’re over 40, trying to make conversation with your own dad often felt like hitting a tennis ball against a wall, but the ball’s been made entirely out of cotton wool.

You’d serve up a topic, hoping for some traction – and it would hit the wall sadly, and fall lamely to the floor: “Dad, I saw Mission: Impossible today, it was so good!” “Oh, is it?” 

It’s even worse if they’re the ones serving. “So… how’s school?” “Did you eat already?” That was pretty much the range.

I appreciate the effort – but I don’t want that for my own kids. I don’t want to be a well-meaning but boring dad armed only with mundane questions that go nowhere. So I try – probably too hard at times – to speak their language, quite literally.

My attempts to drop Gen Z lingo aren’t about trying to impress anyone. At 45, the only thing I’m “serving” are bad puns and lame jokes. But it is an attempt at connection. An awkward, cringey, sometimes-effective olive branch.

The memes we share, the TikToks we laugh at together, the post-mortem chats after another episode of The Mandalorian – these moments mean something. They’re small windows into my kids’ world. They let me in, just a little. And in the awkward dance of parenting three teenagers (and two preteens!), the older they get, the more that little bit matters.

I TRIED SO HARD, AND GOT SO FAR

But here’s the catch: There’s a fine line between showing interest and trying too hard.

There’s a version of the “cool dad” that’s plain exhausting – the one who’s constantly trying to stay relevant, who shows up at school pickup with a backwards cap and ironic slang, skateboard propped over one shoulder like a youth pastor who went too deep on Urban Dictionary.

At a certain point, we have to accept that our cultural peak has passed. That’s okay. Coolness is a moving target, and by the time we figure out what’s in, it’s probably already out. (It’s probably out precisely because we figured it out.)

So maybe the better question is: What does being a good dad look like now, in the age of TikTok and K-pop?

It’s not about relevance. It’s about relationship.

And sometimes, that means exchanges looks like this:

“Man, New Jeans’ Super Shy is super catchy huh?”
“Dad. That was like, two billion years ago.”
“Yup, but like, aren’t they super slay?”
“Oh, please no.”
“By the way, I did get new jeans.”

That last random line actually got a stifled chuckle from her. Cue another small win for Gen X dads – connection topped off with a hint of cringe is still connection.

THE KIDS ARE ALRIGHT

I may not be the authority on rizz or sigma energy. My jokes may be mid at best. But I’m trying. And I think our kids see that, even when they’re groaning and sighing through our cringe.

There’s a kind of dignity in ageing out of the need to be cool. But there’s also a kind of love in making the attempt now and then, even if it’s obviously “not it”. 

It’s not about being cool – our kids don’t need us to be cool. It’s about caring enough to try and connect with them on their level.

So, must I be a cool dad to be a good dad?

Nah. But if misusing Gen Z slang helps keep the conversation going with my kids, I’ll gladly take the L.

Who knows – maybe I could even earn back a few aura points.

Kelvin Kao is the co-owner of a creative agency and a cafe. He's also a father of five.