I was in Portland on Saturday afternoon, enjoying a fantastic dance party thanks to the ever-groovy efforts of Belinda and Hova from Greasy Kid Stuff, the greatest kid's radio show of all time. A woman came up to the DJ table with her five-year-old.

"Excuse me," she said. "Do you have any Ralph's World?"

"Ralph's World?" I said. "Oh my god, no! Ralph's World sucks!"

"Oh," she said, obviously taken aback at my strange opinion. "My kid really likes Ralph's World."

This is known, in the book business, as "blowing a sale."

Unlike me, Belinda has social skills. She attempted a rescue.

"We mostly play songs for adults that kids happen to like," she said. "So we don't have any Ralph's World."

"I like Ralph's World OK," I said. "Really. So you really should pick up a copy of Alternadad."

"Maybe," said the woman. "Do you have any Dan Zanes?"

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" I said.

The rest of the party went better for me. In between dancing sessions with my year-old niece Jane, I walked around and met the partygoers, who numbered well over 100. They'd driven from as far as 90 miles away to bask in the greasy glow. I met parents who'd taken their two-month-old on a rock tour in their van, and a guy who asked me if it was OK to show his three-year-old son some old Max Fleischer Superman cartoons (answer: Yes). Some of the parents were tattooed, and others, like me, were among the aging unadorned.

Regardless, we all got the sense that we're part of a cultural shift. It's hard to tell if that shift is large or small, but the culture is definitely shifting. Or tipping, as it were. The Sippy Cups and the Jellydots, bands that started specifically for kids, are doing showcases this year at South By Southwest. Dan Zanes is selling out concert halls. Baby Loves Disco is reaching critical mass in more than a dozen cities. In Portland, Belinda and Hova are throwing a "Grease Ball" in March, featuring three bands and more DJ action. In San Francisco, you have Pipsqueak A-Go-Go, which I've mentioned previously here. I'm sure Bloodshot Records and The Hideout have something good planned in Chicago, and there are probably a half-dozen good kid-parent parties a month in Brooklyn. In other markets, Rock-N-Romp is really catching on.

At Powell's, one guy I met said to me, "I like what you're doing, man." This was despite that fact that sweat was pouring into my eyes. Also, I smelled like a week's worth of pent-up farts.

"I'm not doing much," I said. "Just reading from a book."

"Yeah, but you're part of the whole thing," he said. "It's a good time to be a parent."

I thought about that statement later. Some times, and places, are definitely easier than others when it comes to being a parent. But is it ever really a good time? What does that mean? I'm still not sure. But I do know that the generic kidcentric culture of Barney, and Mommy & Me and Gymboree, while still part of the landscape, is fading, and is being replaced by something that feels a little more authentic, a little more, well, fun.

These parties only go a couple hours a weekend, maybe even only a couple of hours a month. But as the network grows, maybe there will be more. Maybe it will become that much easier for us to meet parents who are "like us," and for our kids to meet kids that they like. Regardless, I had the most fun on tour when I was surrounded by parents dancing with their kids. To me, that's worthwhile on its face.

That said, it didn't feel like a "good time" to be a parent this evening, when at a Super Bowl party at my brother-law's cousin Debbie's house, Elijah got in a fight with his cousin Ali over some Clifford The Big Red Dog Books. While interceding, Regina got hit in the face with a book. When she took Elijah outside to calm him down, Elijah reached across a table and deliberately overturned a bowl of chips. Five minutes later, we were driving home.

But an hour-and-a-half after that, Elijah curled up under my arm as I read to him from Captain Underpants And The Perilous Plight Of The Purple Potty People, which I'd purchased at Powell's the day before. At that moment, it did feel like a good time to be a parent. Nothing makes me happier than filling my child's mind with amusing, imaginative nonsense. And it felt even better when he fell asleep at 7:30 PM.

PS: For a little more enlightenment about what I did in Portland, here is an account of my latest visit to Voodoo Donuts, by Professor Paul Collins.

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