It’s finally happening.

After years of being cast as “background adult #2” in the Archer Show, I’m finally getting my own extended monologue. Center stage. In the spotlight. With pyrotechnics. (Okay fine, it was just the porch light, but still.) That’s right — I’m officially in my Cool Dad Era™.

The moment that stopped me in my gym-shoed tracks? I came home the other night, stepped outside, and saw Archer zooming around on his bike while Caitlyn and the neighbors chatted.  But then — Archer saw me. Like, really saw me. He got off his bike and came running. Running! Like I was returning from war, not Planet Fitness.

Now, I know that sounds like a small win. And it is. But it’s also the Super Bowl of Second-Parent Moments. Not long ago I went away for two weeks on a work trip and when I came back, Archer barely acknowledged me. He gave me a nod, maybe. It was like I’d gone out for milk.

So for him to get excited about seeing me after an hour of absence? That’s the stuff.

That’s the good stuff.

It’s not just “dada” anymore. It’s “DADDDAAAAAAA!!!” When I step out of the room for 30 minutes I now come back to a hype-man-level “DADAAAAA!” The kind of greeting you’d give your buddy who just bailed you out of jail and brought tacos.

I know I’ll never be Mom — and that’s okay. She’s Beyoncé in this family dynamic. But I’ve carved out my own little niche:

The Cool Dad Phase™.

It’s like a seasonal limited-edition flavor. You don’t know how long it’ll be around, but you better savor every last drop before it melts into “Why are you so embarrassing, Dad?”

So when Caitlyn went to the doctor yesterday, I made the most of our hang time. We kicked things off with an unlimited Cheeto buffet. He got so thirsty from all the powdered cheese, he turned into a one-man coffee shop and served me at least 20 cups of imaginary espresso. We were both absolutely buzzed on fake caffeine. It was glorious.

We capped the night off with some stand-up comedy, more stale snacks, and — naturally — Archer taking his pants off and stretching like a tiny, deranged yoga instructor.

It was chaotic. It was sticky. It was perfect.

So yeah, I may not always be the first pick. But every time he runs toward me yelling “Daddaaaa!” like I just hit a walk-off homer in Game 7, it feels like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.