The honest account of Father's Day

I'm going to tell you what I actually do well and what I actually don't, because I think that's more useful than another piece about what fathers should do.

What I do well: I'm present at dinner more often than not. I read aloud. I say 'I don't know' when I don't know, which happens more often than my children expect. I admit when I'm wrong. I have a reasonable relationship with silence — I can sit with my children without filling the space, which I understand is not universal.

What I don't do well: I underestimate how much my mood affects the temperature of the room. I sometimes give my phone more attention than I've given the person in front of me without noticing. I default to problem-solving when sometimes what's needed is just listening. I'm more patient with strangers than with my own children on bad days, which is the most common failure mode I hear from parents and which I share entirely.

The gap between what I intend and what I do is not fixed. Some weeks the gap is small. Some weeks it's wider than I'm comfortable with. The work is not to close the gap once and keep it closed. The work is to notice the gap, repeatedly, and choose again.