Cycle

Most likely, all parents of a teenager have said, "I hope you have a child one day exactly like you!" Which, to the narcissistic teen, doesn't sound half bad.

It's tough to imagine Lyla sassing off to Julie and me. She'll reach the point where being seen with us in a movie theater will be the epitome of uncool. She'll go to the mall with us only when we're shopping for her, and even then she'll keep a safe distance to prevent passersby from figuring out that we're together. Family functions might find her sullen, wanting instead to hang out in the basement with her cynical friends or, God help us, her loser pothead boyfriend.

What'll be so strange about her rejection of us is that Julie and I are such cool people. I mean, we're tight peeps, man. With it. In with the now. Slammin' to the max, yo. We'll be such dope parents that we won't be able to figure out why our kid thinks we're lame-o.

Plus, we'll remember what she was like before she even had a distinct personality. We'll remember the years when she accepted us unconditionally, like heroes or celebrities, and we'll remember how easy it was to unconditionally accept her. So when the pubescent little snot stomps all over our feelings, we too will have a fit of exasperation and tell her we hope she has a kid someday who's just like her. And she won't understand what we're talking about either.

Until she does.