Learner Dad: What is the perfect age, that time when we don’t want to get any older? 

My daughter is watching YouTube Kids, where American teenagers show you how to bake a cake. Picture: iStock 

My son listed off the shoe sizes of the other kids in his class this morning. It brought me back.

I remember being like that at age eight, comparing myself with other guys in my class. There’d be consternation when another boy got a bicep or an early-onset moustache. Comparing yourself to other people is part of the human condition – there is no point in fighting it.

My son then told me that he’s the oldest in his class, adding the name of the girl who had held that title before my son moved to the school in September. I told this girl’s mother about it later at the school gate – the girl was glad about it apparently, she didn’t fancy being the oldest.

Age is a lot more than just a number, particularly when you’re growing up. I can still remember the sequence of eldest to youngest in my bunch of buddies from secondary school. I’m still in touch with the eldest - I still look up to him as slightly wiser because his birthday is two months before mine.

My own kids are dead keen on getting older. My daughter can’t wait to get a mobile phone; my son wants to stay up later because he reckons that will give him more video game time.

It got me wondering – what is the perfect age, that time when we don’t want to get any older? 

It certainly isn’t 55, my current age. I caught up with one of my closest friends on Zoom last night, he lives in Australia now and it was his turn to turn 55. It was brilliant as always to talk to him, but there was a certain air of ‘how come we’re still not 35?’ about it. We even talked about retirement, like the old men that we are. I can see a clear path now to a frank chat about incontinence underwear.

It’s not that we’re unhappy. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life, except of course when Aston Villa failed to beat Oldham in 1993, confirming Man United’s first league title in 26 years.

It’s just my friend and I have this strange sense that the best bit of life is gone, and we must have missed it.

My daughter knows when the best of life is going to be – when she’s a teenager. She’s watching these videos on YouTube Kids where American teenagers with very shiny hair show you how to bake a cake. The cake isn’t the point. What matters is there is no sign of their parents (They’re just off-screen counting the millions of dollars their daughter is making, teaching my daughter how to make a cake and speak like a 14-year-old girl from Santa Monica.)

I love the way my kids can’t wait to grow up. There’s nothing wrong with looking forward to a brighter future.

I don’t even dread them becoming teenagers. My friend in Australia said that teenagers aren’t what they used to be when we were growing up. His two are aged 17 and 14 and he has a solid relationship because he tells them everything and they’d tell him one or two things back in return.

I’ll try and keep the communication channels open. I remember the phrase “none of your business” got plenty outings in our house when I was a teenager. The thinking back then seemed to be that the less you tell young adults the better, which seemed to fit into an Ireland that still liked to keep plenty of secrets.

It’s not like we’re perfect now, but at least we are less inclined to keep our kids in the dark. I don’t want to jinx it, but I think their future seems bright – nothing is guaranteed but I think my kids will enjoy life more and more as they get older.

Hopefully, I can do the same myself. I must schedule a follow-up chat with my friend in Australia for this time next year. We’ll be older if not wiser and my daughter will be an expert at baking cakes in a Californian accent.