What the Skibidi?

At some point in the last few years, my children stopped speaking English.

They still use English words, technically. I recognize most of them individually. But put them together in a sentence and suddenly I feel like I need a translator, a linguist and possibly an exorcist.

As a millennial parent, I thought I was prepared for this.

My generation invented — or at least aggressively overused — words like “whatever,” “phat,” “da bomb” and “talk to the hand.” We survived AIM screen names, MySpace bulletins and the early days of texting, when every text message cost money and we had to decide whether “LOL” was worth the extra three cents.

But our kids have taken slang somewhere we were not prepared to follow.

They have rizz.

They have aura.

They are cooked.

Someone is apparently “serving.”

And, somehow, Ohio is an insult.

So, because I have accepted that I am no longer fluent in the language spoken under my own roof, I have compiled a brief translation guide for fellow adults who would like to understand what their children are saying without having to ask them.

You're welcome … I'm sorry?

Rizz

Rizz means charm or the ability to attract someone.

Basically, it means having game.

“Dude has rizz” translates roughly to “That kid is apparently very good at flirting.”

As a mother, I personally prefer not to think about this one.

Aura

Aura is someone's perceived coolness or presence.

You can apparently gain aura points by doing something impressive and lose aura points by doing something embarrassing.

Which is unfortunate, because I have apparently been losing aura since approximately 2004.

Cooked

If your child tells you they are cooked, do not immediately ask what they ate.

“I'm cooked” generally means they're exhausted, doomed, in trouble or otherwise having a terrible time.

It is the modern equivalent of saying, “Well, I'm screwed.”

If someone tells you to “let him cook,” however, they are not asking you to step away from the stove. They mean someone is doing something impressive.

This is unnecessarily complicated.

Cap / No cap

“Cap” means a lie.

“No cap” means they're telling the truth.

So if your child says, “No cap, Mom,” they are basically saying, “Seriously.”

Which is funny because when I was growing up, if I said “seriously” too many times, my mother would simply tell me to stop arguing.

Apparently we needed a whole new vocabulary for it.

Bet

“Bet” means OK, sure, agreed or sounds good.

This one is relatively easy.

But don't say it back.

Nothing will age you faster than a middle-aged parent attempting to casually incorporate their child's slang into conversation.

“Bet” is acceptable coming from your teenager.

Coming from you, it sounds like you are being held hostage.

Sus

Sus means suspicious.

We have officially shortened “suspicious” to “sus,” because apparently those extra 2 syllables were putting unnecessary strain on the youth of America.

Delulu

Delulu is short for delusional, usually used jokingly.

As in, “I'm being delulu.”

Adults have been using the phrase “Girl, be serious” for generations, but apparently that wasn't efficient enough.

Touch grass

This one is my personal favorite because it is essentially the same thing our parents told us.

“Touch grass” means you have been online too long and need to return to reality.

Translation for millennials: Go outside.

Translation for Gen X: Stop sitting on the damn computer.

Translation for boomers: I told you the internet was going to rot your brain.

And then we arrive at Gen Alpha.

This is where the road gets dangerous.

Skibidi.

I have read explanations. I have watched videos. I have asked children.

I still don't know.

Sometimes it seems to mean something is weird. Sometimes it is used as a joke. Sometimes it appears to mean absolutely nothing at all.

At this point, I believe “skibidi” is less a word and more a verbal smoke bomb.

Ohio

Apparently, Ohio has become synonymous with weird, bizarre or chaotic behavior.

Which feels unfair to Ohio.

Imagine waking up one morning and discovering an entire generation has decided your state is slang for “strange.”

Ohio didn't ask for this.

Fanum tax

This one is actually easy.

If someone takes some of your food, they have collected the Fanum tax.

In my house, we simply called this “Why did you eat my fries?”

Apparently that wasn't cool enough.

Gyatt

This is one of those words parents should learn but absolutely should not repeat.

It is essentially an enthusiastic reaction to someone's backside.

Brainrot

Brainrot is what happens when you've consumed so much internet content that your brain begins speaking exclusively in memes, sound bites and references that make no sense to anyone over the age of 25.

Which brings us to the most important rule of this entire guide:

Never use the slang yourself.

This is critical.

You may understand it.

You may translate it.

You may even secretly find some of it funny.

But you should never, under any circumstances, look your teenager in the eye and say, “That's fire.”

They will physically recoil.

You will see their soul leave their body.

They will probably ask you to stop embarrassing them, and you will suddenly understand exactly how your own parents felt when you rolled your eyes at them in 1999.

And honestly, that's probably the biggest similarity between generations.

Every generation thinks the generation before it is embarrassing.

My parents didn't understand my slang.

I didn't understand theirs.

Now my children are looking at me like I'm a technologically illiterate Victorian woman because I don't know what “6-7” means.

And someday, my children will be sitting at a dinner table with their own kids, listening to some new generation communicate entirely through holograms, facial expressions and whatever horrifying vocabulary comes after brainrot.

Their children will say something completely incomprehensible.

My kids will stare blankly.

And somewhere in the universe, I'll finally get my revenge.

Until then, I'll be over here Googling what my children just said.

No cap.