So, there I was, sitting on my sofa, scrolling mindlessly through the many OTT channels (as we more fabulous millennials often do), when I remembered that I needed to follow up with my 12-year-old about some of his chores (and responsibilities). 

I did what any responsible, digital-savvy parent would do – I reached for my phone, opened WhatsApp and wrote a carefully worded message to him. You know, the kind that can only be widely regarded as a masterpiece of ‘modern parenting’ – a unique blend of gentle reminders, life lessons, and an open-ended question to encourage communication.  Why? Because nothing says “I’m hip and with it”, like communicating with your kid through an app, right? (Plus, he’d gone out)

I hit send and leaned back into the sofa, feeling pretty darn proud of myself. I may (or may not) have even mentally high-fived myself for nailing this whole digital parenting avatar.

No pre/teen wants to be told what to do, so in my head, allowing him to contribute to the conversation was a win-win. After all, I am one of those very understanding and engaging parents of the 21st century. Or so I thought.

My phone pinged gently as the now-familiar green notification flashed with his name on the top half of my screen. I clicked the notification, ready to bask in the glow of a successful parent-child interaction.

And there it was. In a big and bold font (yes, I’m at that stage), his response to my beautifully crafted eloquent message.

“K!”

Seriously. Just… “K!”.

I blinked. A few times.
I even closed and reopened the app, hoping that the rest of the message was hiding somewhere in the digital ether of the Internet.

But nope. There it was. In all its single-letter glory.

It’s safe to say that my face, at that moment, was a combination of confusion, mild outrage and the dawning realisation that I’d become my parents. 

Welcome to the linguistic wonderland of Generation Alpha, where complete sentences are apparently passé, and vowels are optional.

What else should we expect from a generation raised on a steady diet of “tl;dr?:”

(For the uninitiated, no, that’s not a typo. It stands for “too long, didn’t read” – which, ironically, is longer than just reading the thing in the first place)

Our conversations often go something like this:
Me: “How was school today?” 
12yo: “Good”
Me: “Do you want to tell me more?”
12yo: “Nah”

Me: “What did you guys learn in Maths today?”
12yo: “Stuff”
Me: “Do you want to elaborate a bit more?”
12yo: “idk”

It’s like pulling teeth but with less anaesthesia and more eye-rolling. Or a conversation with a magic 8-ball, but with less response variety.

As an adaptable millennial whose day job for the better part of the last 5 years has involved working closely with younger millennials and Gen Z, I’m no stranger to abbreviated text speak. I thought I was fluent in “young person”, but apparently, I’m still stuck in the dark ages. This new way of communication makes me feel like I need a Gen Alpha-to-regular-English dictionary. I’ve consulted my fellow millennial parents; this is a universal experience. We’re all out here, desperately trying to decode our children’s monosyllabic responses and wondering where we went wrong.

But here’s the thing – and frankly, I hate to admit it – we did this too. Like when we thought it was pretty cool to say “Whatever” to everything our parents said. Or when we started using “Sick” (complete with the finger click/snap) as the much-preferred alternative to “awesome”. Or trying to explain SMS to our parents. (No, Dad, you don’t need to type a text message like you’re writing a formal letter). 

I guess karma’s just come full circle, folks.

We tend to forget that, inevitably/ every generation develops their own unique vernacular that they love and completely befuddles (and irritates) the adults in their lives. It’s like a rite of generational passage, a linguistic rebellion against the ‘old guard’. So yeah, as much as it pains us to admit it, Gen Alpha is just following the yellow brick road that has our footsteps on it.

The irony isn’t lost on me. Most millennial parents think we would be the “cool” parents, forever young and always on the ball with the happenings. We secretly swore we’d never be as out of touch as our parents. And yet, here we are, scratching our heads over “yeet” and wondering why everything is suddenly “sus”.  Not gonna lie – I had to Google it the first time my son used them. Apparently, “yeet” means to throw something with force or excitement. And it can be used in any context. Sort of like a verbal Swiss Army knife. 

I even tried using “yeet” in a sentence once. Unsuccessfully, I must add. My son’s look of secondhand embarrassment was quite the sight.

But as they say, every cloud has a silver lining. So here’s the kicker. The secret weapon to make all this Gen Alpha slang uncool – just use it ourselves. Nothing kills a trend faster than Mon or Dad adopting it. 

The next time my son hits me with a “K”, I’m going to quickly respond with a “Bet, fam. That’s lit.” And then I’ll watch and smile as his face contorts in horror as I successfully assassinate his cool lingo.

I might even throw in a dab for good measure.
(That’s still cool, right? ….. Right?)

So, fellow millennial parents, let’s embrace the confusion, the eye rolls, and the single-letter responses. It’s all part of the ride, and we’re in this together. And who knows? Maybe one day, we’ll get a full sentence. In the meantime, I’ll be here, trying to decipher if “slay” is a compliment or a threat and wondering if I should be concerned that my child keeps talking about some guy named “Cap.”

Send help.
Or better yet, send a translator.

Until then, “K” it is.

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A special preview of the Gen Alpha slang dictionary for Millennial Parents

I’m genuinely considering investing in a Gen Alpha slang dictionary. Because we’re gonna need it.

Meanwhile, here’s a rough guide to what the slangs I used in the post mean.

Yeet: I’ve already covered this in the post; sort of like the Swiss Army knife of Gen Alpha slang. Need to express excitement? Yeet! Want to describe a forceful throw? Yeet! A multi-purpose exclamation to fit any context – from chucking a ball to celebrating a win.

Sus: Short of suspicious; made popular by the game “Among Us”. If something doesn’t seem quite right, it’s “sus”. Kinda like when your kid suddenly offers to do the dishes – suspiciously out of character. We had sketchy, if you remember.

Cap: Cap means lie, and “no cap” means, well, no lie. Like your kid saying “I did all my homework – no cap”, which is supposed to be them claiming honesty. But hey, as we know, this is usually often followed by a sudden scramble in the morning to do said homework.

Slay: Usually means doing something exceptionally well. I guess an equivalent of our “nailed it”, maybe? Like when you finally manage to assembly IKEA furniture without wondering what this extra nut or screw is for.

Bet: Quite the chameleon this one; it can mean “yes”, “ok” or even “I agree.” So when your kid says “Bet”, they’re doing one of the above. Usually. Or maybe they’re just acknowledging your existence. Ah, who really knows.

Lit: If something is “lit”, it’s amazing. Or exciting. Oh, I can’t remember now. Basically “lit” is to this generation, what “cool” was to ours. The pinnacle of approval. Like your child doing his chores without you having to chase him? That’s lit.