Ten Years in, and Fatherhood Is Still Teaching Me Things

Six years ago I wrote about discovering my style of fatherhood. I envisioned myself as a negotiator, playmate and philosopher and hoped to be present and stay relevant for my kids.

It’s Father’s Day again so I went back to reread that piece again. Mostly out of curiosity but also partly out of dread (what if I’d completely abandoned everything I said?). Turns out I’ve managed to keep my word (mostly). No physical violence, still true. Staying present, still true, even if I don’t always nail it. Staying relevant, only a little because the world is moving so much faster than I imagined with AI.

Ten years of fatherhood also means getting schooled again and again about what it means to be a dad. Nobody put these in the parenting books.

1. Life is unfair, and they will absolutely let you know

B thinks the universe has personally wronged her. A has a phone and B doesn’t (yet). We agreed years ago that phones happen when you start primary school, and B’s exactly one year out from that. One year might as well be a decade to her.

Then there’s pocket money. A gets some and now B wants some too, even though she has absolutely no idea where and how to spend it. She just wants the having of it.

On the flipside, A has her own list of complaints. She does more housework than B. She feels like B gets away with stuff she’d get punished for. For her, being older comes with more rules, not more freedom and sometimes she’ll say stuff like

Why can’t you make me the younger sibling?

Grass is always greener on the other side and they’re both a little right. And they’ll both keep telling me I’ve got it wrong, no matter what I do.

I used to think my job was to be fair. These days I think my job is to be consistent and let fairness be the thing they argue about until they’re thirty. That’s probably what every generation before me figured out too.

Pro-tip: Stop trying to make every outcome equal. Explain your reasoning once, hold the line, let them be annoyed. Fair is more of a feeling than a formula.

2. The AI thing genuinely scares me, even if I try not to show it

A has WhatsApp, which means Meta AI is just sitting there in her chat list. I’ve noticed she barely opens Google anymore. Got a question? Ask the AI.

What gives me a sliver of hope, and I mean this, is when she turns to me and goes “Meta AI gave such a stupid answer.” I don’t know if that’s critical thinking or just a kid being unimpressed, but I’ll take it. It means she’s not swallowing things whole.

Both girls also watch the AI slop on YouTube. The weird hyperreal animals, the nonsense narration, that whole genre of “is this real” content. The good thing is that they can spot it instantly. To them it’s a joke, a “haha look how fake” moment. I’ve used those as little teachable openings, talking about misinformation, about questioning what you see online. They mostly think I’m being dramatic about something that’s obvious to them already.

They can smell the fake stuff faster than I can.

Part of me wants to believe that’s their generation’s built-in instinct, something mine never had to develop. But this stuff moves fast, and I genuinely don’t know what it looks like in five years when the slop gets harder to spot and the dependence gets easier to fall into. Staying relevant used to mean keeping up with trends. Now it means trying to understand a technology that might shape how my kids think before I’ve even figured out how it’s shaping mine.

3. Watching them build their own little worlds is a vibe nothing prepares you for

There’s a specific kind of joy in watching your kid grow a social life that has absolutely nothing to do with you. A recently got added to a group chat with her CCA friends, and it was a nice chance to talk to her about online etiquette. How to disagree without being a jerk. How anything you type can be screenshotted forever.

She’s also at the age now where it’s not cool for parents to hover at birthday parties anymore. She plans her own playdates. I’ve been demoted from chaperone to chauffeur, my entire job now is to drive her there and then get out of the way. It’s kind of satisfying watching her be comfortably independent, even if it means I matter slightly less in that exact moment.

B, meanwhile, comes home with stories about her classmates that stretch on for what feels like forever. She’s a certified yapper. But I’ll take the long-winded recount over silence any day of the week.

For our kids, every small friendship is the whole world.

The one thing that still bothers me, and this loops right back to the unfairness lesson, is when their social circles overlap. Neighbours, family friends, the kid who’s somehow both of their friend. Inevitably, one of them accuses the other of “stealing” their friend, like friendship is some finite resource you can hoard.

I keep saying that it’s not YOUR friends or MY friends, it’s OUR friends. They’re not buying it yet. I’m hoping this territorial friendship thing is just a phase, the same way I’m hoping the phone arguments fade out once B finally gets her own.

A few years ago I thought fatherhood was about nailing the big things. No violence, stay present and relevant. I still believe that. But the actual day-to-day situations turns out to be made of smaller, messier stuff. Addressing the fairness arguments with no real solution. Raising kids to think critically about a technology I’m still trying to wrap my head around myself. And quietly and gratefully, watching them turn into people with their own friendships, their own opinions, their own lives that don’t orbit around me anymore.

Will the unfairness complaints ever stop? Probably not for years. Will I ever fully figure out the AI thing? I doubt anyone has. Will I keep getting demoted, playmate to chauffeur to whatever comes after that?

Probably, and maybe that’s the whole point.

About the author

Caleb is a millennial dad to two beautiful daughters and enjoys exploring issues around technology, health, and parenting. In his free time, he daydreams about what the future holds for humanity.