The Paradox of the Great Dad

What is a “great dad”?

The question came up during conversation with a young man in his late twenties who remarked that several equally young men of his acquaintance were “great dads.” In my young friend’s estimation, a great dad is one who religiously attends his kids’ organized sports events, spends all the time he can possibly spend fun doing things with his kids, and generally puts his kids first in his life. He’s a sensitive guy who lets his children know in every way he can that they are at the top of his priorities, his raison d’etre.

My silent reaction: Oh, me. Oh, my. What is this world coming to?

Indeed, that young fellow’s description of a “great dad” prevails in today’s parenting culture. He describes what I call a “buddy-dad,” one who strives to establish and grow a delightful relationship with his children. What said young man does not know and lacks the foundation for knowing is that the great dad of the 1950s and before was not focused on having a wonderful parent-child relationship (but his relationship with his kids was just as it should have been). His kids were not at the top of his list of priorities (but he would have done anything possible to guarantee their well-being). The dad of the Pre-Psychological Parenting Age (circa 1970 to the present) was first and foremost a husband. His relationship with his wife was his top priority.

Before I go any further, I should stress that I am talking about the pre-psychological fatherhood norm. I concede that not all pre-psychological dads were great dads by any definition, but that, folks, is inevitable given the human condition.

The “great dad” norm today and for most of the last fifty years has little in common with its predecessor and is reflected in an exchange I’ve had with many contemporary fathers.

JR: “What do you do when you get home from work or a trip?”

GD: “I play with my kids.”

JR: “Why?”

GD: “Why what?”

JR: “Why, first thing when you get home from work or a trip, do you play with your kids?”

GD: “I haven’t seen them all day, or maybe even several days.”

JR: “You haven’t seen your wife during that same period of time either. Explain to me why, under those circumstances, you feel and act as if your first obligation is to your children.”

GD: “Uh, um, uh, well, I mean, uh, well, that’s a good question, I guess. I’ll have to give that some thought.”

There is nothing that puts a more solid foundation of security and well-being under a child’s little feet than the knowledge, however intuitive it might be, that his parents are in a vibrant, thoroughly committed relationship. Under those circumstances, children don’t act like they need constant attention. They do their own thing. They entertain themselves. They’re content.

The typical American married couple, once they have children, begin acting as if they took a vow on their wedding day that reads, “I take you to be my husband/wife until children do us part.”

When children begin arriving on the scene, husband and wife go to the back burner, if they’re even on the stove at all, replaced by mom and dad. The paradoxical FACT is that mom and dad have great difficulty getting on the same parenting page. Why? Because mom and dad bring two different points of view to the raising of children. People who, after children begin arriving on the scene, stay rooted in the roles of husband and wife have no difficulty getting on the same parenting page. They are in more, much more, of a relationship with one another than either of them is with the kids.

Within that context, the children have complete permission to emancipate, and make no mistake, emancipation is not an event that happens when a child is a young adult; it is a process that begins in early childhood.

How does a child emancipate from the center of attention? Answer: Not comfortably, if at all.

How does a child leave home when, in so doing, he is stripping his great dad or great mom of their primary relationship? Answer: Not comfortably, if at all.

A child is able to leave home comfortably and confidently when he knows that his absence is not going to leave a gaping hole that only he can fill.

Today’s great dad is certainly a well-intentioned guy, but the old adage about good intentions merits thoughtful consideration.

Copyright 2023, John K. Rosemond