Every generation has its own language. Those who grew up in the 80s said ace and wicked. The 90s brought sorted and well fit. The 2000s gave us well sick and lush. And now your kids are saying things that sound like a Discord server having a philosophical meltdown.
If you’ve ever stared blankly at your child while they delivered what was, for them, a perfectly coherent sentence — and for you, complete gibberish — welcome to the club. This isn’t a failure on your part. It’s a rite of passage.
The good news is that this summer is your chance to catch up. Not to speak like them — that would be absolutely mortifying, and they would never let you forget it — but to understand what planet they’re inhabiting when they come home and recount their day.
Here is your Survival Guide for Summer 2026.
The Parent’s Survival Glossary: from “rizz” to “mid”
Before we begin, a word of caution: do not use these words. Reading them is fine. Understanding them, brilliant. Actually deploying them out loud in front of your children is the verbal equivalent of attempting the Macarena at their school play. You may do so, of course. But you’ve been warned.
That said, here’s the glossary:
Rizz
- What it means to them
- Natural charm, charisma, the inexplicable ability to attract people without appearing to try. If someone has rizz, they’re effortlessly magnetic. It can be “unspoken rizz” — the kind that requires no words at all — or it can be demonstrated through sharp wit and perfect timing. Oxford University Press named it Word of the Year in 2023. It’s been going strong ever since.
- What you think it means
- A surname. Possibly someone from The Apprentice.
- Real-world example
He didn’t even say anything — the man has unspoken rizz.
- Parent tip
- If your child tells you that you have rizz, cherish the moment. It will not happen often, and it will never be said in front of their friends.
It’s giving…
- What it means to them
- It has the vibe, energy, or aesthetic of something. When something is “giving” a particular feeling or association, it strongly evokes that thing. It can be a compliment or a gentle critique, depending entirely on what it’s giving. The ellipsis at the end is crucial — it’s an invitation to fill in the blank.
- What you think it means
- Someone is being generous with something.
- Real-world example
That jacket is giving 90s dad at Glastonbury. I love it.
- Parent tip
- If your child says something you’ve done is “giving” something, pause before reacting. Context is everything. “It’s giving chaos” and “it’s giving main character energy” are very different verdicts.
Era
- What it means to them
- A distinct phase or chapter of one’s life, defined by a particular mood, aesthetic, or behaviour. Being in your “gym era” means fitness is currently your entire personality. Your “academic era” means you’re laser-focused on studying. Your “main character era” means you’re putting yourself first. It’s life as a Netflix series — one season at a time.
- What you think it means
- A period of history. Tudor. Victorian. Elizabethan.
- Real-world example
Sorry, I can’t come out tonight — I’m in my reading era.
- Parent tip
- Ask your child what era they’re in. It’s one of the most genuinely revealing questions you can ask a teenager — and remarkably, they’ll usually answer it.
Mid
- What it means to them
- Mediocre. Average. Fine, but not noteworthy. Firmly in the middle. Not bad enough to criticise, not good enough to praise. When something is mid, it has been damned with the faintest possible praise. For a generation that runs on superlatives, mid is a quiet devastation.
- What you think it means
- The word “middle” with the ending removed. Which is, admittedly, exactly what it is.
- Real-world example
The film was mid, honestly. Not bad. Just… there.
- Parent tip
- If your child describes something you love as “mid,” try not to take it personally. They’re not being cruel. They’re being precise.
Bare
- What it means to them
- A lot, very, extremely. A distinctly British intensifier — essentially the London equivalent of “well” in Northern English or “dead” in Scouse. Bare tired. Bare funny. Bare good. It works as an all-purpose amplifier and has been embedded in UK street slang for the better part of two decades. Particularly concentrated in London.
- What you think it means
- Without clothing. Or a bear, misspelled.
- Real-world example
That match was bare stressful. I genuinely cannot.
- Parent tip
- This one is distinctly and proudly British, with genuine staying power. If your child uses it, they’re linguistically local — and probably a Londoner at heart.
Mandem
- What it means to them
- Your group, your people, your closest mates. It comes from Jamaican patois, filtered through UK grime and urban culture, and is now widely used across London and beyond. The mandem are the people you trust, the ones you’d call at short notice, the inner circle. Gender-neutral in practice, despite the name.
- What you think it means
- A portmanteau of “man” and “them.” Which is, technically, correct.
- Real-world example
Don’t worry, I’m just out with the mandem. Back before eleven.
- Parent tip
- If your child mentions the mandem, ask who’s in it. Calmly. Not as an interrogation — as genuine interest. There’s a difference, and they can absolutely tell which one it is.
Understood the assignment
- What it means to them
- Someone has done exactly what was required — brilliantly, and with full commitment. When someone understood the assignment, they didn’t just meet expectations: they read the room, delivered accordingly, and looked good doing it. It applies to outfits, behaviour, performances, and life choices alike. It is high praise, deployed sparingly.
- What you think it means
- A student who completed their homework. Which is, frankly, a low bar.
- Real-world example
She came to the party dressed head-to-toe in the theme. She absolutely understood the assignment.
- Parent tip
- If your child says you understood the assignment, you’ve done something genuinely impressive. Accept the compliment with dignity. Don’t ask what the assignment was.
What Not To Do (Even Though You’re Tempted)
Now that you’ve decoded the vocabulary, here are the ground rules for not derailing your child’s summer within the first five minutes:
- Do not use any of this in public. Not in the car when their friends are in the back. Not at the dinner table when they’ve brought someone round. Not ever.
- Do not explain it to other parents at the school gate with the same enthusiasm you’d reserve for discovering a new podcast. It doesn’t have the same effect.
- Do not tell your child you’ve read this article. Keep it close. Use it only to understand them — not to impress them.
- Do not attempt “rizz” unprompted in a sentence. You will not survive the consequences.
The Secret Nobody Tells You (But Every Parent Does)
Everything you’ve just read has a perfectly sensible, practical purpose: understanding your child, staying in the loop, and surviving the summer with slightly more conversational range than “lovely” and “sounds good.”
But let’s be honest.
You’re also going to use it to wind them up. And that’s entirely fine.
In fact, it may be one of the great undocumented pleasures of parenthood: the moment you drop a term from their vocabulary, in the right context, with just the right intonation, and you watch their face. That split second where they don’t know whether to laugh or quietly leave the room. The moment they look at you and think: “where did he get that?”
That, if you’ll allow it, is peak rizz.
Because teasing your child with their own language isn’t cruelty. It’s a way of telling them — in your slightly embarrassing, very parental way — that you’re paying attention. That you’re here. That you care enough to learn their things, even when you don’t entirely understand them.
And at the end of the day — and this is an absolute fact — that’s exactly what they need most.
Because Understanding Them Is Great, But Knowing Where They Are Matters More
This summer, your children will gain independence. They’ll go out more, come home later, spend more time with the mandem and less with you. That’s normal. That’s how it should be.
And in those moments when you’re not with them — when they’re out building rizz or navigating some drama with their friends — what matters isn’t whether you can speak their language.
