Many fathers have a learned helplessness when it comes to the behavior of their children. They have resigned themselves to a losing battle and fight from a constant rearguard position, always in retreat, always fearful of a negative reaction. The child knows the song and dance and knows that, in the end, he will get his way. Every time.

The father might think that nothing works anyway, so why fight? Why make a scene?

Many people become gentle parents at this point, because it’s easier to pretend their abdication is intentional rather than from despair and exhaustion. They can keep their pride intact. But the child, though he gets what he wants (on the surface), feels abandoned and unloved.

“There are only two tragedies. One is not getting what one wants, and the other is getting it.”

Oscar Wilde

The quote rings true because most people want the wrong things, and so the wanting is better than the having. And so it is with the child. Externally, he often wants the wrong things. But in reality, he is begging for boundaries and positive attention, and not getting those is a true tragedy.

Here are some of the biggest mistakes fathers make early in a child’s life. Each one compounds and conspires to create brats and seemingly helpless parents.

Discipline Doesn’t Start Early Enough

Discipline should start early in a child’s life, from the moment they can move around on their own power. They need boundaries, and they need loving parents to enforce those boundaries. Sometimes, literal boundaries.

Crawling introduces all sorts of opportunities to practice, while associating enforcement with the word “no.” If a child reaches for an outlet, for example, smack the hand and say “no” in a deep voice. Then redirect. You can always follow up with snuggles and tickles.

Discipline Is Only Done In Anger

The father spanks only when furious, when his patience has been worn thin, and not when it's warranted. The child learns that dad's anger is the real authority, not the rule itself. Discipline becomes unpredictable, and unpredictable discipline is cruel.

You know the scene. You’ve seen it or played your part in it several times.

“Stop throwing the ball in the house.”

Throws ball.

“I said stop throwing the ball in the house!”

Throws ball some more.

“What did I tell you? Stop throwing the ball!”

Throws ball, this time knocking over a lamp and breaking it.

“WHAT DID I SAY!” The father, now enraged, spanks the child in anger, at risk of actually harming him. What lesson is learned? Don’t make Dad angry. Tiptoe around him. Be careful. Disobey, but hide it.

But if the father had disciplined after the first infraction, the child would have learned the proper lesson, which leads into the next one.

They Give Commands They Aren’t Prepared To Enforce

Every unenforced command teaches your child that your words are optional. Give fewer direct commands. Mean every single word. If you give a command, be prepared to enforce it if they don’t obey. Immediately.

Demanding this of yourself means you should measure your words carefully. Don’t toss them around. They should have power. Don’t unload a long list of commands all at once and expect perfect obedience. The child might not remember them all, and you might not either. Even if the child wants to obey, you have set them up for failure.

Let’s go with a classic one every parent has probably struggled with. “Put your shoes on, it’s time to go.”

Ten minutes later, the shoes still aren’t on. Maybe you have stated the command at least 3 other times. The child learns that you only mean something if you say it at least three times.

Say it once. If after 30 seconds, the shoes are not on, or they are not in the act of putting them on, discipline. That could mean a spanking, or it could mean grounding them from whatever they were playing with at the time.

There’s another tragic flip side to this. If your children know that you don’t actually mean your commands, they will treat all of your other words with the same weight. Your promises will mean nothing. Your declarations of love are as light as feathers. They know you don’t mean what you say, because you have proved it to them over and over.

They Wait Too Long Between the Offense and the Consequence

A toddler cannot connect a punishment five minutes later to what he did five minutes ago. You have seconds. Anything more creates confusion. Early on, you must be prepared to enforce every single command and to enforce it immediately. Do not leave any room for confusion.

Don’t toss a command behind your shoulder while you’re driving, unless you are prepared to pull over, stop the car, and get out. If you wait until you arrive at your destination 10 minutes later, the moment is lost.

As children get older, connecting offense and consequence becomes much easier because you can reason with them. But by that point, they have been trained. It’s not an everyday occurrence, and your lecture is more of a reinforcement of something already known deep in their bones rather than a necessity.

The Only Attention They Give is Negative Attention

A child demands attention, and if disobedience is the only time a father pays attention to him, a child will learn ways to get that attention. Hugs, kisses, laughter, playtime, conversations both shallow and deep. Saturate your child with love and attention. He will let you know if he needs more of it. Fill up the bank.

Every moment of discipline should come from this context of love, where they know, deep down, that you want them close. Discipline is a temporary interruption for their own good, and not a permanent state of disfellowship.

Want an easy place to start? Reading out loud to them every night is a great way to give regular, focused attention.

I’ve also written several books that are great for this purpose.

It’s Not Too Late

The good news is that children respond very quickly to new patterns of discipline. It’s not too late. You are not helpless. Stand firm a few times, consistently, and your children will start learning the new reality. And though more difficult, even neglected teenagers can respond to a father taking more responsibility.

The battle is worth it. No less than the souls of your children are at stake.

If you want to be treated like a man, you have to act like a man. Above all, acting like a man means taking on responsibility without grumbling or complaining. And it means direct speech without any waffle words or detached irony.

You aren’t owed respect. You have to earn it. Respect you didn’t earn isn’t worth much anyway, and you’ll always have doubts clawing at your mind, making you feel like an imposter, because you are.

Reframe the problem. The question is not "why don't they respect me?" The question is "what have I done that's worthy of respect?"

I had to earn it from my father-in-law. I can pinpoint the exact conversation where our relationship started to change.

He didn’t like the church we were going to at the time. He thought it was a bit loose with the Bible and that we could do better.

While we were at his house, he brought it up with me while we were alone in the living room. He was concerned.

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While there are many attributes that a “good friend” will have, there is one that is critical.

A lack of envy.

A willingness to rejoice when others rejoice.

When you have good news, you know exactly who you want to tell, because they let you be excited and they don’t try to one-up you. “Oh, you got a promotion, that’s great I just bought a new car.”

A friend who does not envy is rare. It has always been rare.

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Aeschylus, the ancient Greek playwright, has Agamemnon say the following:

In few men is it part of nature to respect a friend’s prosperity without begrudging him, as envy’s wicked poison settling to the heart piles up the pain in one sick with unhappiness, who, staggered under sufferings that are all his own, winces again to the vision of a neighbor’s bliss.

Notice that last line.

“…winces again to the vision of a neighbor’s bliss.”

Of all the companions Agamemnon could remember, only Odysseus maintained his sincerity. All others were a “shadow’s ghost” of companionship. They were around him because he was powerful, either out of fear or because he could do something for them. Their envy, however, proved that they would tear him apart for scraps if the opportunity arose.

It is getting harder to find people who do not envy the accomplishments of others because our culture rewards immaturity and whining. The politics of envy assumes that if someone has something good, then they have denied someone else that good thing. That everything is zero-sum.

If you find a friend who does not envy, you have found a treasure.

And if you are that friend who does not envy, you can be a blessing to everyone you come in contact with. A drink of cool water in a desert.

So use this test.

If they can rejoice when you rejoice, they are a good friend. You can tell if it’s sincere. Envious manipulators might try to pretend, but you know. And if not immediately, then soon after, when they start demanding things from you or using your newfound success as an excuse to tear you down in other ways.

For your part, kill envy in yourself. Envy is a poison that steals your joy. Envy is a cancer that corrupts your friendships.

A tranquil heart gives life to the flesh, but envy makes the bones rot.

Proverbs 14:30

Learn to truly rejoice when others rejoice, and more people will want to rejoice with you. You will accrue joy and good cheer to yourself, which becomes a gravitas all its own.

If you truly love someone, you will want good things to happen to them, full stop, regardless of your own situation.

Having a way for your children to earn money is a good way to start teaching them how to handle money. But you need to be careful. You don’t want to raise pure mercenaries.

You don’t want them holding out their hand for a tip after brushing their teeth. You also don’t want them fishing for compliments and rewards just because they put their plate in the dishwasher. Some behavior should be expected. Children should not be trained to beg for treats like a dog.

To help prevent this, making certain distinctions can be helpful.

There are different categories of money, each of which is important.

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Death is an inevitable part of life. Today, most shy away from it and avoid talking to their children about it. The old trope about Rover going to “live on a farm” betrays a fear and timidity, perhaps some embarrassment akin to talking about the “birds and the bees” when they come of age.

It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart.

Ecclesiastes 7:2

As is typical, avoiding the topic of death is the opposite of what the wise thing to do. Now, more than ever, parents should take their children to funerals and visitations. Children should see people weeping. They should see the bodies of the dead. Not as an everyday occurrence, but as a natural rhythm of life, just like they see the trees paint their leaves with fire and bronze every Fall, and then sprout them anew each Spring.

And in the process, they should be taught to take it to heart. They will not live forever. Their parents will not live forever. If they are blessed, they will live long enough to help bury their parents and many of their friends. A long life brings its own sort of pain.

Children used to be around death more often. Life on a farm, for example, presented all sorts of opportunities that are foreign to our current sterilized existence.

Chickens would die for the sake of the oven. Animals would be stolen by coyotes. The cycle of life was laid bare for all to see, and parents could teach, and children could learn. Likewise, families used to be larger. Most would have lost a sibling or two and remember it.

Where modern life fails, fathers must fill in the gaps. Take them to as many funerals as you are able. Let them see you comfort those who mourn. Let them see the laughter of loved ones as they remember the life of the one who passed on.

Is it inconvenient? Yes. It’s meant to be.

Death intrudes. It does not care about anyone’s schedule. It comes like a thief in the night, and the living must deal with the consequences. We are forced to respect it because it will eventually come for us all.

Even for the Christian, death intrudes, though it has been softened to a deep sleep.

Do not fail to provide your children with this important education.

And when you are gone, do not deny them another lesson. There is a trend to avoid funerals altogether, with people telling their relatives they don’t want anything done for them. No service. No burial. Just burn and forget. Another symptom of our queasiness about death.

Denying yourself a proper funeral is cruelty to the living. A funeral provides closure. It gives people permission to move on. Yes, funerals can be painful. They’re supposed to be painful, like purifying a wound. Without a ceremony of some kind, people can walk around with a tumor for the rest of their lives.

Remember, deep down, the funeral isn’t about you. It isn’t for the dead. It’s for the living, so that they take it to heart.

It is good to go to the house of mourning.

Why would you deny something good for your loved ones?

“Children aren’t part of our life plan. Not for us.”

People who say this, or some permutation of it, are, in one way, correct. Children are not part of the plan. As C.R. Wiley notes in Man of the House, children are the plan. On the surface, they are a couple’s retirement plan, but beyond that, they are also the plan for life and civilization itself. Children are what make it possible, and desirable, in the first place.

Either you will depend on your own children in your old age, or you will depend on the children of others. No other options. There is no such thing as “not being a burden” when you grow old. You will be a burden to someone.

Some couples cannot have children, which is a tragedy, but to make it a deliberate choice is shortsighted and selfish. From a purely pragmatic standpoint, you are deliberately enslaving yourself to the vagaries of people who don't really care about you. Every relationship you’ll have, after a certain point, will be mercenary in nature.

All of those nurses who will take care of you? Someone else’s children.

The people who prepare your meals and clean your room? Someone else’s children.

The entertainment you watch as you slowly drift away? Created by someone else’s children.

The funding of your pension and social benefits? Provided by someone else’s children.

The entire infrastructure that supports your existence? Maintained by someone else’s children.

But even before you retire, while you still have life in your bones and time has not yet ravaged your strength or faculties, you still depend on other people’s children. The business you own? It requires workers and customers, the ranks of which will be filled by other people’s children. That cubicle email job with the nice salary? Made possible only through the demand generated by other people’s children. You can’t escape this fundamental reality.

If the population suddenly shrank, what do you think that would do to consumer demand? The economy in general? Without children, the economy stagnates or shrinks. It might cause hyperinflation as the money supply is distributed among fewer people. Your continued prosperity depends on other people’s children. The DINKs’ (dual income no kids) ability to waste their lives on endless traveling and Saturday brunches, their ability to blithely ignore the future, and their illusion of independence, all depend on the labor of other people’s children.

This relationship used to be more obvious when more people had farms, and they literally depended on their children for extra labor. They knew children were an investment. Eventually, they expected a return.

However, I’m not making a primarily economic argument, though that can’t be ignored and is the most obvious. I’m going to make an even bolder claim.

The only reason DINKs don’t feel existential dread or ennui every day of their lives is because of other people’s children. They can only ignore the creeping shadows because they assume most other people won’t be as selfish.

If people stopped having children, even art itself would cease to be valued.

There’s a scene in the film Children of Men where a cousin of the protagonist restores art damaged in the chaos caused by mass-scale human infertility. No new child has been born in 18 years. In the movie, he is working to restore Michelangelo’s David. The protagonist asks him what the point of it is. In 100 years, no one will be around to see it. Mankind has a known expiration date.

Even the lonely, childless autuer toiling away at his artistic vision toils in the hope that other people will look upon his work. Ideally, long after he is dead. No artist truly works only for himself. He intends for people to experience it. Otherwise, the novelist would keep his manuscript on his computer, and the painter would keep all of his canvases stored safely in his basement.

Very few artists achieve lasting fame. Very few works are added to the canon that will be studied in the decades and centuries after he is gone. But he hopes, and that hope is part of what drives him. Without children, there is no hope. If not his own children, then the children of other people. Someone must be having children for art to have any lasting significance. Hope drives the actions of most people, and without children, hope eventually withers on the vine.

In the movie, the cousin’s answer to the protagonist’s question as to why he wastes his time doing something no one will be around to see: “I just don’t think about it.”

That is the same mantra of married couples deciding not to have children. “I don’t want to think about it, so I won’t think about it.” Willful blindness is the only option. They either cannot or will not look beyond their own noses.

Of course, not everyone can have children. Not everyone should have children. There have always been classes of people who have abstained, such as priests, missionaries, sages, hermits, and other disciplines or orders.

The difference, and the unspoken expectation, was that these people would dedicate themselves to some other higher calling, to serve their fellow man, to serve the children of others, in some other noble way that might not be possible if they had children of their own. The expectations for them were greater, not lesser. Their goal was not to live a life of endless leisure and dissipation, unencumbered by responsibility, sleeping in, binging entertainment, drifting through life with a purpose consisting only of maximum pleasure, languishing in immaturity.

What’s more, these childless people would not expect the world to revolve around them. To complain about how a society caters to families with children would be an obscenity, a branch complaining about how the roots of the tree get to taste the water of the soil first.

When someone says, “We just don’t want children,” what they’re really saying is that they want all of the luxuries of modern civilization without any of the responsibility that comes with it. Because they will depend on everyone else’s children.

And without children, civilization ceases to be. Most of what is good and beautiful would eventually fade. “Be fruitful and multiply” wasn’t only a command, but a foundational pillar of reality, one we ignore at our peril.

In Xenophon’s Oeconomicus, Ischomachus relays a conversation he has had with his new, young wife. He has been training her to run the household, and at one point, he says to her:

But the most pleasant experience of all is to prove yourself better than I am, to make me your servant.

What does Ischomachus mean by this?

He was in charge of the entire household. He was the patriarch. His word was essentially the law to the house.

But he cannot do everything. He could not be everywhere at once. And so he is explaining to his wife the importance of her role in managing these other areas of the household, areas that were just as important as the work he himself did, such as the organization of resources and the management of servants.

The goal was to have a wife so capable that he could put his entire trust in her. If she became industrious and diligent, and she said something in relation to her domain, he would not hesitate to obey that word.

The heart of her husband trusts in her, and he will have no lack of gain.

Proverbs 31:11

It is not abdication to listen to your wife regarding her domain and responsibilities. In fact, you have delegated those tasks, and it would be foolish to ignore her.

In Ischomachus’s case, if his young wife worked to organize the tools of the household, it would make sense to ask her where certain tools should go, and therefore become her servant in the matter. Follow the logistics plan of your quartermaster.

If your wife tells you to take off your shoes before you enter the house, you are not giving up your manhood by obeying her command in this matter. If you have given her the responsibility of beautifying the home, you want her to excel at it, and if she excels at it, you should be glad to become her servant in this instance.

If you have entrusted your wife with managing the finances and creating a household budget, and she tells you that a particular purchase needs to wait until next month, the wise husband listens. She has the spreadsheet open. She knows (or should know) what bills are coming. To override her because you want a new tool or gadget is to undermine the very authority you gave her.

If your wife homeschools and she tells you that your son needs more time on his current math lessons before moving to the next level, trust her judgment. She is with that child for hours a day. She might see what you do not. Now, there might be cause to dig deeper, especially if you think your son isn’t meeting his expectations. Ask questions, don’t jump to overruling. Maybe he needs to dedicate more time per day to math, or maybe not, but that’s a conversation to have, not a browbeating to administer.

Paterfamilias

The Roman paterfamilias had absolute legal authority over his household. He could, in theory, even sell his children into slavery. But the Romans themselves recognized that a man who actually exercised every power available to him was not strong but monstrous.

Cato the Elder, who was as hard a man as Rome ever produced, praised his wife's management of the home and said that a man who struck his wife laid hands on what was most sacred. Authority exercised without restraint is not authority at all, but tyranny. If the pagans understood this, how much more so should the Christian?

Don’t Hate Yourself

To disobey her would be to hate yourself. To disobey her would be making a mockery of your own authority. If she opens her mouth with wisdom, why would you not listen? If you have helped train her in what you expect and she has shown herself competent in meeting those expectations, why would you undercut her efforts?

It is an insecure husband who doesn’t want his wife to excel at anything. It is an effeminate man who thinks he is in competition with his wife. It is false masculinity to keep your wife under your thumb so that you can override her wishes whenever you wish, to prove somehow that the ultimate authority lies with you. It is a poor leader who demands respect by shouting, “Respect me!”

Let your wife do what she was created to do. Guide her, husband her, and if you are blessed, you will be happy to become her servant.

Be a leader, not a micromanager or a blustering tyrant.

If you are serious about finding a wife, you need to get serious about vetting the women you date. Don’t string women along with indecision. It wastes your time, and it wastes her time.

This information is worth thousands of dollars and can save you from years of heartache. Men used to get this information from their fathers and grandfathers. No more. And so our broken culture gets worse and worse.

Your great-grandparents could have told you everything in this article. They learned it from their parents, and on and on. 16-year-olds in 1920 had a more complete education in marriage than most 30-year-olds today, because wisdom was handed down, and we weren’t trying to reinvent the relationship wheel every 30 minutes.

Vetting is not just about choosing the best woman; it is about knowing what you are getting yourself into. Are you ok with the tradeoffs? Because once you marry a woman, you have made your choice, and you are responsible. You are now fully invested.

Every woman comes with costs. Every woman comes with rewards. Know both and weigh them appropriately before you commit.

This guide is critical for young men and for fathers as their sons enter the dating pool.

Below are practical questions and tips for how to tease out the truth, organized in four stages, along with the answer to the all-important question: how long should you wait before you propose? How long is “enough” before you can know she’s marriage material?

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There is no greater improv practice than playing with kids. They have abounding joy and imagination, and they expect you to be swept up in their schemes as much as a martinet expects to be obeyed.

If you don’t want to slow down their pace and temper their mood, you have to roll with the punches and think fast. The good news is that children are far more forgiving than a typical improv audience.

The title of this post might seem absurd. Who needs to be taught how to play and have fun? But some people really are terrible at play, especially with children. They are afraid to look foolish or think they have better things to do with their time.

Or worse. They think they always have to be teaching the children something, bestowing “wisdom,” to make the time worthwhile. Any game or toy needs to have a STEM sticker slapped on it. Any fun is looked at with suspicion. One example is the father in Mary Poppins, who needs to learn something as simple as flying a kite.

But literature is also full of positive examples, and one delightful book gives us a character worthy of emulation.

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Ever since the Enlightenment, the West has fetishized education. It has been touted as the solution to all problems, from poverty to crime to war. Is someone poor? They lack the proper information. Is someone committing crime? They lack the proper information. Remember the laughable “just teach men not to rape” campaign? If only every man had some more finger-wagging about proper consent, then the rape problem would be solved!

All problems stem from a lack of education, even deep moral problems. At the same time, people pretend, with a straight face, that education is “neutral” and has no moral component. Schizophrenic, at best.

However, for education to be effective, it has to be received properly, and in order to be received properly, the student must be virtuous.

The fool exists. Scoffers will scoff. The wicked will learn just enough to be more effective in their wickedness.

…teach a righteous man, and he will increase in learning.

Proverbs 9:9

In order to teach someone, they must be righteous. This does not mean perfection. It does not mean maturity. It means the heart of the student must be pointed in the right direction. Righteousness is a core prerequisite for any worthy education.

So education must concern itself with righteousness. It must be able to reward it, to cater to it, and to discipline its opposite. It must be able to know that a heart is pointing in the right direction and, to some extent, measure that alignment.

By necessity, virtue must be part of a whole education.

Which begs the question: What is virtue? What is righteousness? By what standard?

This is why education is religious. Always.

There can be no neutrality. There is no “secular” education that refuses to impose a standard of right and wrong on its students. To qualify as “education”, some standard of righteousness will always be promoted.

Always a god, always an altar

Religious concerns are unavoidable. Why is something wrong? What should you do one thing and not the other?

Whatever that standard is, an education is indoctrination into that religious standard. There is always some god above the altar that is owed homage. Even if that god is the anemic god of the utilitarian or the “almighty” Demos of democracy. Or even the personal preferences of the teacher herself. Many a classroom has been ruled by petty, tyrannical, wanna-be demigods.

Wherever you send your children to school, they will be sitting in catechism classes that will impress upon them a notion of right and wrong. This cannot be avoided.

There is no school or teacher on planet Earth that disseminates only neutral facts. The very act of choosing which facts to teach and which facts to ignore conveys a message, whether you realize it or not. A teacher can talk about how George Washington owned slaves, and then ignore his bravery and particular virtues. No editorializing, but a judgment has been pronounced regardless.

Will they be taught that there is inherent order to the world? Or will they be taught that everything is the result of blind randomness, including themselves? Either of these has important implications.

Will they be taught that masculinity has its unique strengths? Or will they be taught that it is toxic?

Will they be taught that transitioning from one gender to the next is to be celebrated? That opposing it is evil?

Will they be taught that consent is the ultimate arbiter of what is acceptable, just as long as they practice safe sex? Or will they be taught that sex between a man and a woman is sacred? That it should be practiced within the protections of the marriage covenant?

If you send your kids to be educated by pagans, don’t be surprised when they eventually become a pagan. If you send your kids to be educated by Romans, don’t be surprised when they pledge their allegiance to Caesar.

As a father, you cannot take this lightly. Your children’s education is your responsibility.

Again, there is no neutrality. A war is going on for the souls of your children. Education is a primary battleground. The children of the dark are more shrewd than the children of light. They understand what is at stake. They are more than happy to mold your children in their image.

A disciple is not above his teacher, but everyone, when he is fully trained, will be like his teacher.

Luke 6:40

Who is teaching your children?

Time to get your head out of the sand.

There is a way to pursue masculinity that is the opposite of masculinity.

Sometimes, men want to start working toward projecting a masculine frame to communicate better that they are a man. This is a good thing. Whether it is getting stronger and fitter, learning a martial art, or going hunting, we should celebrate it.

But there is a way to take on these masculine markers that is actually a retreat from masculinity. Sometimes, a man wants to project masculinity while running from responsibility.

This is machismo. It is an aping of masculinity. If “toxic masculinity” could ever apply to anything, it would be this type of bravado.

A man starts going to the gym every day to get stronger. But really, he is avoiding his nagging wife.

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It is your responsibility to educate your children. You may delegate some of the tasks of their education. You may hire tutors and teachers, or send them to a private school. You may even send them to government schools (though I wouldn’t recommend it).

But you may not abdicate your responsibility to educate them.

When all is said and done, and things have not been done to your satisfaction, you have exactly one person to blame: yourself.

It feels nice when you can blame someone else. Cast your guilt onto the teachers, point fingers at the school environment, shake your head in disappointment at the chosen curriculum, and throw medication at a boy who is misbehaving.

All of that excuse-making is easy.

All of it is an effort to absolve yourself of your own failings.

Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.

Ephesians 6:4

If your child is falling behind, do something about it.

If something is not up to your standards, do something about it.

If you want them to learn something specific, do something about it.

This doesn’t mean you have to personally teach them everything (though you should be formally teaching them something). It just means you are the captain of the ship, and you will answer for where that ship goes and how it was maintained. There are a lot of jobs that you don’t personally do, but it is your job to see that they all get done adequately.

Do not neglect this responsibility. Do not abdicate.

During the COVID lockdowns, how many people complained about schools not meeting? Or about how math is taught? Or about progressive agendas in new textbooks?

Stop complaining.

Do something about it.

You are their father. You are not an impotent worm, subject to the whims of the universe. Your children don’t have to be subject to a subpar education.

Take responsibility.

Another meal, which meant another time my youngest son complained about gas, whining and squirming and not eating much. It only seemed to be a problem at the dinner table.

Everyone was sick of it. I assumed he was overreacting. It had been almost a week of scrunched-up faces and whimpers. Annoying, to say the least. I told him to suck it up, and to eat his food. No more whining. No more complaining.

He obeyed, but looked sad doing it.

I thought he was exaggerating for attention, so I made sure to spend some more intentional time with him, and even helped him keep a food journal to track what might be causing the issue. Which, again, I didn’t think really existed or was a big deal.

It finally resolved itself, and I forgot about the whole episode. Then, one week later, I flew home from a trip and had a deep, lingering pain in my stomach. It lingered for almost 3 days, getting worse. I didn’t eat. I could barely sleep. No medication touched it. Lying on one side brought some slight relief, taking the edge off. My abdomen felt like there was a mix of gravel and razor blades shifting around. I knew it wasn’t my appendix, but at some point, I thought it might be a severe bladder infection.

So I went to the ER right after a snowstorm. I had to call a friend with his truck to brave the white-mounded roads.

What was the problem? You’ve probably guessed it.

Gas. Trapped near the top of my intestines. Debilitating pain. And the next day, it was gone.

After that, I had additional respect for what my son might have been going through, and I told him. I had learned some sympathy and patience, and I had learned them good and hard. It was the good kind of suffering, the type that brings clarity and gratitude in its aftermath, with no long-term negative consequences. Like God reached down his hand and said, “Let me teach you an important lesson.”

Don’t be so quick to shrug off the concerns of your children. Even if you don’t think they are legitimate concerns, in their mind, with their smaller world, they are real concerns. Handle with care. Many experiences are new, especially pain; deal with it appropriately. A soft touch goes a long way, and doesn’t preclude a strong will or high standards.

It could be that my son needed to man up and stop complaining about the same thing over and over, but it was also true that I dealt with him too harshly. We both learned valuable lessons.

Think back to when you were a child. Remember when you had what you thought was a serious problem, something that seemed as big as the world and insurmountable. What do you wish your parents had done? How do you wish they had handled it? Did you wish they had taken it more seriously?

Don’t drudge it up to be bitter about it, but rather to inform your own attitude. Fatherhood is hard work that requires nuance, clear thinking, and patience. Maybe you can teach yourself the lesson without personally going through pain. That shortcut is the definition of wisdom.

My son, seven years old at the time, had not seen his friend in weeks. After church services ended, his friend appeared beside our pew faster than I thought possible and they both embraced in one of the most sincere hugs I have ever seen.

They yelled each other’s names. They jumped up and down. Then they ran off to play.

Physical affection comes naturally to most humans, especially young boys. It is an outward expression of their genuine emotion. Of their excitement.

It’s a shame we grow out of it.

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How would you feel if a man you loved and respected ran up to you, giving you a huge hug, his excitement to see you brimming over, uncontained? You would feel like a million bucks.

And if that is the case, it is in your power to make someone else feel like a million bucks.

But we don’t. To paraphrase Chesterton, we have sinned and grown old. We no longer have the courage to show honest enthusiasm for anything, let alone another person. And we train our kids out of it.

What’s worse, nowadays suspicion is cast on such displays of affection between males. “Looks a little gay to me,” would be the whisper in many people’s minds. This is one of the most tragic casualties of the sexual revolution: the recontextualizing of any signs of affection between male friends.

It has literally crippled us.

Anthony Esolen, in his prescient article A Requiem for Friendship, makes the powerful case that the sexual language of our culture has made male friendship nearly impossible. I cannot overstate the importance of the concepts Esolen describes. You need to read it.

Examples abound of men who showed great affection for one another and knew how to express that affection. From David and Jonathan to Shakespeare to Abraham Lincoln. None of them was gay.

The article concludes with

Know then that your tolerance for the flambeau, which is little more than a self-congratulating cowardice, or your easy and poorly considered approval of the shy workmate’s request that he be allowed to “marry” his partner, means that the unseen boy will not find that friend, and that the idea and the love will die.

The next time someone tells you “They just want to live their lives as they wish” or that it does no harm “to let them live their private lives as they wish” or that “same-sex marriage doesn’t affect you,” keep this article in mind.

At a minimum, it should destroy any notion you have that the sexual politics of a culture is a “private” affair. It is anything but. And they know this. Deep down, you know it too. You just don’t want to admit it.

Why do you think there are loud, bombastic “pride” parades? Because they want to live a quiet, private life?

There is no easy way out of this. We have made our mess, and now we must wallow in it. But we can glory in the honest excitement of children. We can learn from them.

God forbid we squelch that excitement because of our own cowardice.

At a minimum, continue to hug your children and provide other physical signs of affection, especially in the teenage years when they might want to start pulling away. Ruffle their hair. Put your arm around them. Show excitement when you see them.

Do not let them lose that physical vocabulary. Keep it unsullied from the world as long as you can.

Women are a great mystery. Even if you marry one and spend your life with her, you’ll never know absolutely everything. But making your wife despise you is quite simple. Doing so will create such low expectations that she’ll think you’re helpless, giving you more time to focus on frivolities and squander your life.

1. Always ask for permission

Treat your wife like your mom. Never do anything on your own initiative and never make any plans without asking if you’re allowed to do it. Don’t just join the gym. Never plan a night out with friends. Never plan a date and spring it on her spontaneously. Pretend that you’re just being considerate when really you want to foist all the responsibility onto her.

2. Overshare

Gossip like a woman to your wife, as if you’re just one of the girls. Vomit out your feelings at every opportunity. Burden her with every little anxiety and fear. Make a habit of crying often. Treat her as an emotional crutch. Act like an absolute mess at the merest hint of failure, conflict, or difficulty.

3. Never make any decisions

The magic words are, "I don't know. What do you want to do?"

Never be decisive. Always second-guess your own decision. Be silent until your wife steps in to save the day. Making a decision means you might make the wrong decision and look foolish, so better not to make any decision at all.

4. Nag your wife to work outside the home

It’s much easier to get your wife to collect a paycheck than to work to better yourself, seek out opportunities, or take on another job yourself. Let her take on a more masculine position. As a bonus, she’ll take on some more masculine traits, so you’ll have something to hold against her in the future. Adbidate. Offload as much responsibility onto her as possible.

5. Never work with your hands

Hire someone else to mow the grass. Never build anything from scratch. Always call the plumber when there’s a clogged drain. Show no curiosity or interest in hobbies that involve tools or dirt or sweat. Keep your hands soft and clean.

6. Roll over at the first sign of conflict

Don’t stand up for what you think is right. In fact, better not to have an opinion at all. If you start standing up to your wife, she might think you would show some courage and stand up for something else in the future. That’s pressure nobody wants or needs. Apologize just to keep the peace, even if it’s a lie.

7. Construct your identity around being a consumer

Measure your life by when the next Marvel movie, Star Wars show, or video game is coming out? Prove you are a malleable piece of clay, shaped by any outside force stronger than a soft breeze. Don’t just enjoy these things. Become obsessed with these things. Wrap your entire identity in pop culture.

8. Never let her be a woman

Never let her feel safe enough to be weak and vulnerable. Scoff at any attempt to pretty up the house. Be weak, so she is never tempted to rely on your strength for anything. A wet noodle should be more reliable than you. Shrug in apathy whenever she tries on a new dress. Act impatient and confused whenever you think she’s acting irrationally or emotionally. Never desire her, and act as if you are ambivalent to her presence.

Guaranteed

You don’t even have to do all of these. Just three or four, done consistently, will ensure your wife despises you almost as much as you despise yourself.

I remember some of the most random things from my childhood. Some moments of shame. Some filled with hilarity. Some with poignant melancholy.

And some that teach an important lesson.

When I was 9 or 10, my family spent the evening at the home of some family friends. Oreos were on the menu for dessert. Simple and effective.

They were gone by the time I went to get some, however. When I complained, my mom shrugged it off and said we had some at home and that I could have some later.

I took this as a binding contract, sealed in blood with solemn oaths.

I think my mother forgot.

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We left later than expected, and as we were getting in the van to go home, my parents said we would need to go straight to bed.

“But I get some Oreos, right?”

“No,” my mother said, her head turning to look at me from the front seat. “You heard what I said. Straight to bed.”

I took this as a grave injustice. A broken promise that shattered the trust between a parent and child. How dare she?!

I seethed with bitterness on the way home, and, I think, for the next few days. In typical childish melodrama, I declared in my mind that I would never trust her again!

Over Oreos.

I’ve eaten many of them since then. I prefer Double Stuff.

This is not a dig at my mom, whose generosity knows no bounds. She probably doesn’t even remember this event. We got to stay out later than normal and play with our friends longer, so in the grand scheme of things, I got the better end of the deal. That is worth way more than a quick sugar rush.

But I still remember it to this day. That bitterness dug deep.

And it provides some lessons for me today as I parent my own children.

Children remember more than you think. They absorb more than they let on. Tease out what they are thinking. Let them speak.

Above all, let your yes be yes, and your no be no. Children can smell hypocrisy and injustice (toward them) like a bloodhound. If you make a promise, no matter how innocuous, do your best to keep it.

If you can’t keep your promise, then apologize and explain to them why. How are you going to make it up to them as restitution? Treat your own words as if they have weight to them, and then show your children how to do the same.

Because they will remember. And when they heed the voice of their father, they need to feel the surety of his words down in their very bones. Your words need to live there and give them strength, not haunt them or harry them as they try to live their life.

Do not train them to treat your voice as if it were a leaf fluttering in the wind. Or worse, like a gnawing cancer they wish to avoid.

The campaign for Fire and Stone, a fantasy short story collection I’ve curated, is going strong. Help us reach the first stretch goal, and get a collection of stories your kids will love. Claim your physical and digital copy for the lowest price.

Augustine wrote, “Love God and do what you will.” If you truly love God, your desires will be aligned with His desires, your vision of good will match up with His vision of good, and what you see as beautiful will also be what He thinks is beautiful.

If all of these are aligned, then doing what you want will mean the same thing as doing what God wants. Far from being a license to sin, “do what you will” is a statement about the transformative nature of true love…and how we obviously fall short of it. It’s another way of saying that if you love God, you will not only keep his commandments, but desire to do them with all of your heart, not grudgingly or while mumbling.

The son has become like the Father.

Now bear with me as I make a short hop, though it may seem at first like I’m trying to leap across the Grand Canyon with a wobbly vaulter’s pole.

Early on in the anime Frieren (which I’ve written about elsewhere), the main character is teaching a young girl on the ways of life and magic. At one point, the girl wants to keep practicing, despite Frieren’s protestations. Dangerous, destructive magic that could go wrong if wielded improperly. But the girl makes a good argument, and Frieren concedes.

But she concedes in a way that echoes Augustine.

Frieren: “Do you remember everything I’ve taught you so far?”

Girl: “Yes.”

Frieren: “Good. Then do as you like.”

Our children will eventually grow up and make their own decisions. All we can do is teach them what we can, and all we can do, near the end of that time, is send them off with a similar exhortation.

“Remember everything I’ve taught you. Do as you like.”

Because absent a gun digging into their temple or poking them in the back, that’s all anyone will ever do. What they like. What they love and desire will guide their actions.

My son, keep your father's commandment,
and forsake not your mother's teaching.

Bind them on your heart always;
tie them around your neck.

When you walk, they will lead you;
when you lie down, they will watch over you;
and when you awake, they will talk with you.

Proverbs 6:20-22

If your children are going to remember your teaching, you must teach them to love the standard and internalize it, not just be outwardly obedient. You must win their hearts. Otherwise, they will abandon it as soon as they leave your home. They will do what they like.

You have your children only for a short while. You are a steward, not an owner. A servant of a higher power who has entrusted you with great responsibility, wrapped in a blessing.

You will eventually send them out into the world, and all you can expect is that they will do what they like. Their loves will guide them.

What have you taught them to love?

Before we start, I’m kickstarting a collection of short stories. 14 authors, including myself. 14 tales of adventure and magic, suitable for all ages. Perfect for reading aloud to your kids. Check it out.

Pithy proverbs are popular for a reason. They are easy to remember, and they can be repeated over and over. The book of Proverbs in the Bible often repeats itself. The repetition is a feature, not a bug. It should give all of us fathers encouragement that sons, throughout time, have had stubborn skulls, and it takes a constant twist of the screwdriver to finally penetrate.

But there is no greater joy than in seeing your son finally internalize a lesson you’ve been trying to teach him for years. Take heart. Have patience. Be diligent.

Here are 33 lessons to add to the rotation. Pick and choose how you see fit. If even just one of these sticks, the life of your son will be better for it.

The 33 Lessons

1. Do not gloat in victory.

Everyone already knows you have won. Gloating turns defeated opponents into lifelong enemies. Being gracious in victory creates lifelong friends. Point out something they did well, and ask how they did it.

2. Do not whine in defeat.

You will gradually get fewer and fewer invites, and you will never get better at the thing you just lost at. Every loss is a moment to learn, but if you are a sore loser, no one will want to teach you.

3. Focus on skills, not outcomes.

Skills will compound together, and eventually, the outcomes will take care of themselves. Learn to enjoy the journey. Demand excellence from yourself. Remember, anything worth doing is worth doing badly.

4. No one owes you a job.

There is no shame in seeking employment, but no one owes you anything. When people moved West, there were no jobs. But there was plenty of work. If you are willing to do the work, you get to a point where you can give other people jobs.

5. Do not be afraid to want something.

And then go after it with passion and drive. Do not listen to people who pretend not to care or remain detached from everything. That is a habit of the mediocre. They are afraid to fail. This world needs men with holy ambition.

Read more

I’m publishing a collection of short stories called Fire and Stone. 14 authors. 14 tales of daring, danger, and magic. Perfect to read out loud to your kids. I’d appreciate your support. Back the campaign. Every little bit helps.

Now, your regularly scheduled article.

Being a father helped improve my public speaking. You don’t get this upgrade automatically. It takes discipline and diligence, just like anything else.

But being a father is like being given a full scholarship to your chosen university. You aren’t going to get handed a diploma just for existing, but the path has been cleared. No excuses. You only have yourself to blame.

So what am I talking about?

Reading to your kids.

Every day. Every night.

Reading a wide variety of genres and formats. Start when they can’t even hold their own head up yet. Read picture books and read poetry.

Especially poetry.

It’s the most natural practice in the world and it gets more useful the older they get. You get to practice your timbre and rhythm and elocution. You get to hone your sense of dramatic tension. You get more awareness of the power of pauses. If you really get into it, you can practice different voices for different characters.

All of this builds your repertoire.

1. You don’t worry about looking silly. Usually, you want to look silly to get a laugh. This is a good tonic for self-consciousness.

2. Your voice gets some much-needed training. You taste all sorts of different words on your tongue. Reading out loud is much different than reading silently.

Of course, nothing helped my public speaking more than getting in front of a room full of people and doing public speaking. I’m not suggesting this is a replacement. But being a good father will change you in ways you didn’t expect. Your rough edges will be chipped off and sanded down, and your best impulses polished and more likely to shine.

If you let it happen. If you lean into it.

Reading out loud to your kids every night is just another example of this phenomenon. You don’t do it for your own benefit, but the fruit ends up nourishing your soul anyway.

The register at Costco rang up to over $150, lower than our average monthly foray. The employee behind the counter was an older gentleman, all gray hair, slightly stooped.

He looked at my 12-year-old son and held out his hand. “Are you paying?”

My son shook his head in confusion.

“You don’t have a job?” The old man put on an incredulous expression.

“No,” my son said. I smiled and handed the man my credit card.

He took it, still looking at my son. “You do have a job. You have the easiest job in the world. Know what it is?”

My son furrowed his brow a bit, not knowing what to think.

The man waved a finger at me. “It’s to obey your parents. Do whatever they tell you, because they love you and want the best for you. One day you’ll wake up and wish you had a job as easy as obeying your parents.”

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I often think about this encounter. What compelled him to say something at that moment? Many children and parents passed through his line that day. Did he have similar conversations, like a roadside monk bestowing common blessings on passing pilgrims? It didn’t feel like it. It didn’t sound rehearsed. It sounded authentic and real, with the air of spontaneity.

Either way, it was refreshing. A simple reinforcement of meaning and purpose from a complete stranger. An island of sanity in a mad, mad world.

Parents, especially fathers, don’t get much bolstering from the surrounding world. At every turn, the authority of parents is called into question. Teenagers in particular are encouraged to look at them as hopeless rubes, out of touch, backwards, and that on the other side of rebellion is limitless freedom. Basic discipline is lambasted as abuse. Saying “no” is seen as cruel. It’s common to scoff at a parent’s role in education. Any sort of hierarchy is looked on with suspicion, even though hierarchy is unavoidable.

The world is ready to turn your kids against you, to shift their natural loyalties, to turn them into automatons powered by propaganda. The shelter of a household has been replaced by the fig leaves of “expertise,” backed by nothing but a paper trail of lies, damned lies, and misdemeanors. The intent is to make children unsteady, questioning everything, always shifting, always malleable. Modern universities aren’t places where truth is explored, but only where old orthodoxies are torn down, while students become enslaved to debt while abusing their bodies. As Anthony Esloen has stated, whorehouses and mental wards would be cheaper.

“Don’t listen to your parents. They didn’t learn the real truth that we just discovered 5 minutes ago. Oh, and they’re probably racist. Be enlightened with us, while we nibble on nonsensical riddles in the dark.”

Entertainment preaches this message nonstop. Parents are usually an obstacle to overcome rather than part of the solution to the problem. While I can sympathize, because most middle-grade novels could be resolved in about five minutes if the protagonist had a half-way competant father, there are ways to achieve good storytelling without treating the parents as absent, as oafs, or as abusive ogres. See the wonderful Have Space Suit – Will Travel by Robert Heinlein for an example of how to do it correctly.

A healthy culture needs shared values and common bonds. It needs to reinforce what it finds valuable and worthy. Peer pressure matters. It’s rare that a single household can thrive alone, because either the wilderness swallows it or the orcs overwhelm it. Households need a healthy culture like they need a nearby source of clean water.

Churches can provide some of this need, in part. Families doing hard work together. Parents backing each other up. An atmosphere and aroma of shared values. But they have to be real churches, not afraid to confront both the ugliness of the surrounding world and the ugliness at the center of their members’ hearts. Nor can it be a country club, like so many megachurches devolve into, where families skim the pew on Sunday morning, shake a few hands, and then leave to live the rest of their lives.

The influence should never be limited to the church, however. Churches are supposed to be yeast that gradually spreads, and their members salt that adds a certain flavor to the world around them.

And so I appreciate what the older man did. He was doing a small part in keeping the flame alive. His words, though few, helped hold the line against chaos. We need more like him. We need more people lighting small torches so that eventually the smothering darkness is banished to the shadowed corners of the culture. It doesn’t take much to light a torch. Sometimes only a simple, cheap, short-lived match will do.

For more examples of this in action, see how to lift up other fathers.