Be that dad
John Mayer might not be a parenting guru, but when he sang “Fathers, be good to your daughters” back in 2004, he was definitely onto something. He added, “Girls become lovers who turn into mothers” while “Boys will be strong and boys soldier on, but boys would be gone without warmth.”
The man gave us a life hack hidden in a love song, one that every husband, father, and future grandfather should take seriously. Mayer later shared that he wrote Daughters after splitting up with a girl who had father-related trust issues. That track wasn’t just a melody—it was a warning, and a reminder.
The truth is, daughters—and sons—don’t stay little forever. One day, they’re bouncing on your lap, giggling through pigtails or bowl cuts, then the next, they’re someone’s partner, parent, boss, or wisecracking source of comfort and chaos. How we treat them now, as fathers, sets the tone for how they’ll navigate love, family, and relationships in the years ahead.
If you want your daughter to know what a good partner looks like, be one. If you want your son to become one, show him how it’s done. If you want your daughter to expect respect, kindness and patience, demonstrate these at home. If you want your son to grow up offering the same, lead by example. And if you want your daughter to marry someone who opens doors for her, shields her from the rain, walks on the danger side, does his share of parenting and house chores, doesn’t mysteriously and conveniently forget anniversaries, and—most importantly—stays loyal, true, and interesting, well… take notes. Your son is watching, too.
I think one of the best ways of showing this is by loving their mother out loud. “Thinking out loud” à la Ed Sheeran may not be enough (though I serenaded my wife on our 25th anniversary with this song), so you have to demonstrate it regularly, in ways that don’t necessarily involve grand gestures.
Wives may not say it outright, but as much as they love flowers, chocolates, or presents on special occasions, it’s the everyday grunt work that wins the long game: tidying up the house without being asked; flushing properly and keeping the toilet clean; taking care of the kids and/or pets; driving and picking her up from wherever, whenever without grumbling or making a face; actually listening to her stories and opinions; remembering her favorite foods and drinks; giving her a buss before going to and arriving from work, or even a playful slap on the butt; taking a leave of absence for no reason other than wanting to spend the day with her; and watching with her the latest K-, J-, or C-drama (again and again and again...).
Fatherhood requires strength and vulnerability, routine and spontaneity. It asks you to be not merely a provider and protector, but also a playmate, a storyteller, a fixer of broken toys and broken hearts.
While we’re busy teaching our daughters what to expect from a good man, we’re also laying the foundation for the kind of man our sons will grow up to become or hope to be. The example we set as fathers doesn’t just shape how our daughters see themselves; it silently teaches our sons what love, respect, and partnership really look like.
If a boy grows up watching his dad treat his mom with respect, he learns that respect is non-negotiable. If he sees his father doing his fair share of the housework, he doesn’t grow up believing that domestic chores are a woman’s responsibility. When his dad celebrates his mom’s achievements—without resentment or insecurity—he learns to take pride in others without diminishing himself. If he hears his father say sorry when he’s wrong, he understands that strength is not in pride but in accountability. And when he sees his dad still making his mom laugh after all the years and all the dad jokes, he realizes that love thrives not in grand declarations, but in small, everyday acts of affection and effort.
A son raised by a loving, respectful and engaged father doesn’t just become a good man. He grows into someone who shows up—for his partner, for his family, and for himself. He becomes the kind of husband who listens and supports, the kind of father who nurtures and leads with patience, and the kind of man who knows that the best kind of masculinity is the one defined by kindness, humility, and integrity.
We all want to be that dad our little girl puts on a pedestal, the one she compares every guy to when she starts dating (gasp!). In other words, the man who sets the bar too high for undeserving guys. We also want to be that dad our son aspires to be—his first hero, his Han Solo, Tony (or Ned) Stark, Arthur Weasly, maybe even his Homer Simpson or Don Vito Corleone.
My dad (May God bless his soul; he needs it) wasn’t the perfect husband, but he was a good father in the ways that counted. I learned a lot of good things from him: how to drive a car properly (not like those idiots who have lately made headlines after turning their vehicles into WMD); how to be a gentleman; how to swim (by letting me nearly drown); and how to read—constantly and voraciously. He introduced me and my siblings to photography, road trips and the beauty of the open ocean, music and films across genres, and the sheer joy of a good meal shared with someone you love. He taught us how to enjoy life. I also learned some not-so-great things from him, but I’ll probably take these to the grave.
One of my biggest regrets in life is that I didn’t get to spend enough time with Pappy as an adult. But over the years, I’ve been fortunate enough to meet a number of good men to emulate: honest, dependable, proactive, dedicated, industrious, God-fearing, even funny.
As for me? I try, I really do. I’d like to think that doing your best matters more than being perfect. Fatherhood is certainly not for the faint-hearted. It requires strength and vulnerability, routine and spontaneity. It asks you to be not merely a provider and a protector, but a playmate, a storyteller, a fixer of broken toys and broken hearts.
If you’re lucky, you’ll get to see your children grow into amazing adults, and maybe even parents themselves. When that happens, you hope they carry forward the best of what you gave them: not your temper or your tired jokes, not your vices and forgotten sins, but your patience, your presence, your persistence and consistency. And yes, maybe even your taste in music.
Father’s Day is the perfect moment for dads to reflect on life. Whether you’re a dad, stepdad, granddad, or some other kind of father figure, you must realize and accept that how you live your life impacts everyone else around you. Your every effort, no matter how imperfect, can leave a mark. Maybe your daughter remembers your “educational” field trips to Carriedo and Chinatown whenever she eats dim-sum. Maybe your son still hears your voice every time he slows down before a speed bump. Maybe, just maybe, you’ve done better than you think.
