“So, you really want a Nike ski mask for your birthday, even though it’s getting warm outside?” I asked my 10-year-old son, Waylon, while shopping at DTLR at Towson Town Center mall.

“Yes, that, graphic tees and Anthony Edwards sneakers,” Waylon replied with a sure face.

“Doesn’t make sense bro, but OK,” I reply, perplexed yet proud, because my 10-year-old son is slowly becoming independent.

Waylon is my partner in crime and my baby boy. He’s at a fun age now — an age where I get to relive all my preteen fun and have a second childhood. A win-win. Through Waylon, I get a firsthand tutorial on how to navigate in this digital age that I’m still learning how to adapt to.

“Hol up, that’s Lor Rodney Son!” Waylon freezes and blurts out, seeing one of his favorite internet streamers and influencers in the store.

Reggie, aka Lor Rodney Son, is a viral comedian and Twitch streamer from Baltimore. He is up-and-coming with a strong social media presence of 1.2 million Instagram followers. He is gaining mass popularity not only through his content but also because of his recent collaborations with Twitch megastar Kai Cenat, who has earned a major co-sign from my son. It’s no wonder that before I could get my words out, Waylon was already dapping Reggie up like he knew him.

Damm, I thought. This is the kid that the internet teases and says he has no dad. I sighed.

“Can I get a picture?” Waylon confidently asks.

I later found out that Waylon walked right into Reggie’s livestream. I know because several of my friends sent me the YouTube footage that has racked up 31,000 views, with our brief cameo at the 12:31 mark. I’ve proudly rewatched it an embarrassing number of times, as I’ve bragged online and in multiple group chats about how I’m the coolest dad in Baltimore, and according to some of Waylon’s friends, they believe that, too.

“Bro, you can’t just walk up to him,” I say loudly to Waylon, trying to be responsible, but also low-key proud as a dad.

My son has more courage than I did at that age. I always tell him the story of how I had the chance in 2001 to meet Michael Jordan at a Wizards game, but I froze because I was too nervous to meet my basketball idol. My little brother had to step in because I folded big-time.

“He can walk up to me, bro!” Lor Rodney respectfully shuts me down.

I, being a millennial dad, am a little old school, but still young enough to understand. I watch proudly as the two talk and flick it up.

“Thanks fam, keep doing your thing,” I tell Rodney as I shake his hand.

He tells one more joke and my son walks away feeling like the coolest kid in the world. And me? Well, I stay stoic and composed, but on the inside, I’m hyped like a 10-year-old kid myself.

“Hey Dad, you know we are going to be on that livestream?” Waylon says matter of factly. “For real?” I reply. “I hope no one notices the Bath and Body candles I have in my bag.”

“Ayoooo!” Waylon laughs.

Walking to the parking garage, something hit me, and it wasn’t the livestream. (Besides, I didn’t even know how to access Twitch until my son showed me after this encounter.) I thought about how Rodney talks about not having a father in his life. And how each time I have quality time with my son, I am reminded that being a Black dad in 2025 is one of the best experiences I could ask for.

Contrary to the negative narrative that so many Black fathers are missing in action, that is not reality. All Black fathers are not absent or deadbeat. Some are coaching AAU sports. Some are school volunteers. Some are helping with homework and packing lunches. Some are perfecting their daughters’ ponytails without a YouTube tutorial.

Ask me about fatherhood in my late twenties, and I would simply say it’s all about protecting and providing. However, watching my son grow, I know that fatherhood is about nurturing. Yes, fathers can nurture or destroy the ego of their children.

Being a dad in this digital age and all of its influences on children is one of the most difficult tasks, but if you have patience and genuine presence, then the playing field evens out.

So, here’s to the dads showing up without a blueprint, script or reference point. The ones who scream proudly at awards ceremonies. The working dad who’s tired but shows up to school events anyway. The ones still figuring it out.

This Father’s Day I celebrate you and us.