Why Embarrassing Your Kid Is the Absolute Best

I've been a parent long enough (five-and-a-half years today, to be exact) to know the job is constantly evolving. Today's diaper dramas become next year's clothing battles; a sleep-resistant baby will eventually let you get those precious eight hours; my son's desire to run away from me in every single parking lot we walk through will soon be a distant memory (right?!). Although the hard parts of parenting shift all the time, the great parts are equally dynamic.

These days, my 5-year-old makes me laugh with her innovative dance moves and silly jokes, and my son's newfound ability to form sentences detailing the superhero games he plays at school is a current delight. But I recently found another new parenting pleasure that is oh so satisfying: I can now embarrass my daughter, and it is awesome.

I discovered this new skill while driving my daughter and her kindergarten classmate to their weekly hip-hop class. The girls, eager to get the dance party started, requested I put on some Meghan Trainor. I put on "Lips Are Movin" and, feeling light because my 2-year-old son was with his grandma — meaning I wouldn't have to chase him through the parking lot on this particular outing — I started singing along and shaking my shoulders in the driver's seat.

"Mom! Stop!" my daughter shouted. I turned around, expecting to see her panicked because she'd forgotten to bring her $40 jazz shoes (obviously necessary for a class that teaches something called the "pancake dance"), but nope. She had her hands over her face, apparently mortified by my shimmy and admittedly off-tune voice. I couldn't help myself. "Stop this?" I said, amping up my little song-and-dance routine. "Mom, you are so embarrassing me!" she yelled, obviously not noticing that her friend thought I was quite funny and awesome in general (I could tell).

I humiliated her until the song was over, and I have to admit, I loved every second. Sure, it's childish, but there was something so gratifying about turning the tables on this little human, who once decided to lie face down in the middle of Target because I wouldn't buy her a toy, forcing me to abandon my filled-to-the-top cart and carry her out screaming.

Of course, I remember being on the other side of parental humiliation. I vividly recall being mortified by my dad when he decided to sing along to Heart's "All I Want to Do Is Make Love to You" at full volume while driving me to middle school. There's the incident still burned into my usually terrible memory of when he pulled out his collection of Genesis VHS tapes (the guy loves Phil Collins) while I had friends over. And who could forget his open weeping during our family's outing to see The Father of the Bride in the theater? (Yes, I know I'm dating myself with these stories, but I'm officially too old to care.)

I was in my pre- and early teens for those embarrassments; before that, I thought both of my parents were pretty awesome. How lame does that mean my daughter is going to think I am by the time she's 11 or 12? The thought is both terrifying and, I'll admit, completely amusing. Let the shame games begin!