They said it would come, but I didn't believe them. They told me that one day my children would find me uncool. And worse than uncool: an utter, ego-shrinking embarrassment.

Me. The mom with the killer iPod song list. The mom who considers French fries a vegetable. Embarrassing? It didn't seem likely.

Then we attended a school concert last week, and when I erupted in my trademark rock-show howl of "oowwwww!", followed by a passionate shriek of "woo woo!", I glanced over at my 11-year-old son. And there it was.