The Daily Dad

Emily Oster is a writer and a thinker after our own heart. Frustrated with all the bad parenting advice—most of which seems to be based on old wives’ tales and ridiculously bad data—she set out to apply her economist training to the subject of parenting. What kind of sleep training is best? Formula or breastfeeding? Screen time, good or bad?

The result was her book Cribsheet: A Data-Driven Guide to Better, More Relaxed Parenting from Birth to Preschool, which is worth reading and recommending to anyone with young kids. But what’s so interesting about the book is where it ends, which is not with some data driven insight but something completely anecdotal, and yet totally true. Oster, about to take her daughter on an international trip, anxiously asked the pediatrician what would happen if her daughter was stung by a bee while they were away. What if she’s allergic? What if something bad happens? You know the script, what if, what if, what if?

The doctor’s reply: “I’d just try not to think about that.”

As Emily explained in an interview:

I think about that advice all the time because it’s pretty broadly applicable to a lot of things in parenting. We can get caught up in every tiny decision and miss the enjoyment of parenting and the part of this that’s supposed to be fun. It just pushed against some of my worse instincts as a parent to just obsess over everything. Sometimes you just have to accept that you cannot control everything. That’s hard, but it’s part of the fun. Also, the kid was eventually stung by a bee, and it was totally fine.

Selective ignorance seems like a dangerous parenting strategy, and, of course, if practiced all the time, would be. But there is no way you’re going to be a good dad if all you do is worry about everything that could possibly happen. There’s no way you’ll be present or fun or attentive if your mind is constantly running through worst case scenarios. There’s no way you’ll get the big decisions right if you’re sweating every tiny decision.

There are some things it’s better not to think about. There are some times when we just need to accept that we’re winging it. There are some problems we’ll just have to solve when we get to them--if we even have to get to them. In the meantime, we’ve got plenty of other things to do...so go do it!

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Theodore Roosevelt lived an incredible life. He was an author. A naturalist. A rancher. A police chief. A cowboy. A hunter. A governor. A soldier. A president. An explorer. A philanthropist. And that’s probably not even close to an exhaustive list. His life was full of activity. It was full of adventure. It was marked by triumph and adversity to overcome.
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Douglas MacArthur was a man of routine, most military men are. So it shouldn’t surprise us that he built a family life around routine. But unlike far too many fathers who make routine a form of control, MacArthur’s morning routine was about fun—it was about starting the day off right.

As the peerless William Manchester details in his book American Caesar, the morning time was one of the best times at the MacArthur household. In fact, it was kind of scheduled crazy fun:

When Arthur began to walk, and then to talk, father and son developed a morning ceremony. At about 7:30 A.M. the door of the General’s bedroom would open and the boy would trudge in clutching his favorite toy, a stuffed rabbit with a scraggly mustache which he called “Old Friend.” MacArthur would instantly bound out of bed and snap to attention. Then the General marched around the room in quickstep while his son counted cadence: “Boom! Boom! Boomity boom!” After they had passed the bed several times, the child would cover his eyes with his hands while MacArthur produced the day’s present: a piece of candy, perhaps, or a crayon, or a coloring book. The ritual would end in the bathroom, where MacArthur would shave while Arthur watched and both sang duets.

And it didn’t just happen when Arthur was young. As he got older, while his father ruled post-war Japan, Arthur would wake at 7am, and according to Manchester, “rush into the General’s bedroom and pummel him.

We talked before about Ulysses S. Grant’s evening wrestling matches with his kids. We talked about the epic games in the yard that Harmon Killebrew’s father knew was killing his grass but helping raise his kids. Well, we shouldn’t just be talking about this, we shouldn’t just be thinking it was cute that MacArthur and Grant let their guard down at home. We have to do the same thing.

No one is too important or too busy to have some crazy time at home. No one is above getting pummeled by their kid in bed. No father should hesitate before singing at the top of their lungs while they shave. These moments are the best moments. If they’re rare, you’re doing it wrong. They should be regular. Maybe like MacArthur, they should be scheduled every morning for 7:30.

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Your kids probably know how tough they are on you. But do they also know what joy you bring them? How much better they make your life?

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