Appleton: Raising cool kids begins at birth. I take this job seriously.

On Feb. 17, after an expeditious labor that very nearly forced a nurse to don a catcher's mitt before the doctor arrived just in time, Oliver Rhys Appleton entered this world. He brought with him good health, an easygoing demeanor and every molecule of perfection in this universe tightly packed into 7 pounds 4 ounces.

As this was my second go-around, the familiar cosmic parenting dilemmas returned: How can I provide this little ball with the love and support necessary to thrive? How can I guarantee his health and survival? And how am I, a journalist married to a journalist, possibly going to afford another child?

I have found in limited experience that you just do. You figure it all out. A piece of your brain breaks off at your child's birth and dedicates itself to his or her wellbeing. Forever. You never get the piece back.

Hopefully, I'll make due with what's left of this melted brain, because its wayward slices marked for my two sons are taken.

Beyond those fundamental issues is a much more fun and interesting question: How do I raise a cool kid?

I will love him no matter what, but I also want to like him.

Rory's previous column: Appleton: My Valentine's Day at the Museum of Broken Relationships Indianapolis

What are the important movies and songs to expose him to early? Do we go with the empirical classics for a solid grounding, or simply jump right into my superior personal tastes to ensure proper child quality? He should know both The Beatles and The Strokes, of course, but in what order? Is it "Singin' in the Rain" or the criminally underrated, perfect, seminal Ryan Gosling-led 2011 film "Drive"?

I've done a pretty good job so far with Rowan, my first born, who is now 5.

He wants to watch "The Simpsons" every night. He has a suitable reverence for Disney films. He knows who Glass Animals are. He can give you make and model of classic and exotic cars by sight. He plays the piano, drums and guitar. And, crucially, he knows just enough about sports to not be eaten alive by his Hoosier classmates. I hope.

The science behind the Mozart effect — the idea that the big M and classical music in general are good for babies — may be a little dubious, but my wife and I are firm believers.

As a baby, Rowan took an immediate liking to Electric Light Orchestra — something I used to bridge classical and rock music.

We also aired nature documentaries in the background for a softer, educational and indirect screen experience. David Attenborough is a revered figure in my house.

Before Oliver arrived, my plan was just to do it all. Classical music and '00s indie rock. Modern blockbusters and timeless films. Throw it all at this infant who probably can't perceive a lick of it and see what sticks.

After a week with Oliver, I can proudly say that absolutely none of what I had planned took place.

The first song he ever heard wasn't from any great master. It was better than that.

As I changed Oliver's diaper — the only thing, so far, that makes my chill baby cry — Rowan grabbed an old toy guitar that plays nursery rhymes using melodic dog howls. Parents, you know the one.

Rowan just started wailing away on his guitar and dancing. He had only known his brother for a few minutes. He knew babies cried but wasn't ready for the reality of it. Who is, really, but he instinctively did what he thought might make the baby feel better.

And it did. Oliver paused a few times, and his little face puzzled around the room a bit until he settled on his big brother.

Rowan reviews the Children's Museum: Is the Children's Museum's new Dinosphere a hit? A 4-year-old correspondent weighs in.

Oliver's first film?

Well, it was about an hour of "Casino," which I threw on half-asleep as I chugged Pepsi on the couch during my turn on the parenting night shift. I hadn't watched it since before I spent two years living in Las Vegas. In my half-awake state, it sounded good and easy to ignore.

"My darling son, your potential is limitless. May I humbly present the fifth-best Martin Scorsese/Robert De Niro film."

A one for two start on his pop culture journey. OK, not a big deal, I can get the next one. Two out of three ain't bad. Wait a minute. That's it.

"Alexa, play 'Two Out of Three Ain't Bad' by Meatloaf."

Nailed it.

I got back on track in our second week, as we listened to all of Vivaldi's "The Four Seasons" on Monday — one of Rowan's favorites and fitting given central Indiana experienced all four seasons on that very day. Rain, sunshine and baby's first tornado siren and sheltering on the basement futon.

The journey towards crafting cool kids marches ever on. It's not my top priority, but it may be in the top 10. If I want them to wheel my carcass to shows in 40 years, then I had better plant the seeds.

Looking for things to do? Our newsletter has the best concerts, art, shows and more — and the stories behind them

Rory Appleton is the pop culture reporter and columnist at IndyStar. Contact him at 317-552-9044 and rappleton@indystar.com, or follow him on Twitter at @RoryDoesPhonics.

This article originally appeared on Indianapolis Star: IndyStar columnist Rory Appleton talks pop culture after son's birth