Ditching Expectations and Finding My Own Way
A Montessori Dad Perspective
The morning light slipped through the blinds, casting golden stripes across our kitchen table where my four-year-old sat, chin glossy with cereal milk, delicately stacking Cheerios into what looked like a sculpture-slash-snack offering.
It was 7:23 a.m.
We were supposed to leave in seven minutes.
Hir shoes were still on the shelf. His backpack was MIA. And he was humming a song I didn’t recognize, lost in a world entirely his own.
That voice in my head piped up:
Other dads would have this together by now.
Other dads wouldn’t be this behind.
Other dads would be performing fatherhood correctly.
I could feel it again—that tightening in my chest. The internal script. The inherited blueprint. The weight of expectation passed down from generations of “strong, silent, stoic.” Be the provider. Be composed. Don’t get sentimental. Definitely don’t pause for fairy magic at breakfast.
But just as I opened my mouth to speed things up, something inside me softened.
What if we’re not late?
What if this moment—the sticky, chaotic, magical now—is exactly where we’re supposed to be?
Unlearning the Blueprint
Nobody gives you a guidebook for this gig—at least not one that honors who you actually are. The cultural script for dads is still mostly built on legacy models: fix it, fund it, enforce it. I tried that role. I watched other fathers at the park—confident, efficient, commanding—and wondered why that version of dadhood felt so off in my body.
I wasn’t built for performance. I was built for presence.
And the truth is, I’m not alone in that. As of 2025, nearly 1 in 5 stay-at-home parents in the U.S. is a dad. Over 2.1 million of us have taken on primary caregiving roles. And about 7 million fathers are the main caregivers for kids under 15. That’s not a trend—it’s a tectonic shift in how we define masculinity, care, and what it means to “provide.”
The new model of fatherhood isn’t about being perfect. It’s about being here.
Learning to Follow Instead of Lead
Maria Montessori famously said, “Follow the child.” I’d read that quote a hundred times before I actually understood it.
My son wasn’t delaying us that morning. He was being four. He was investigating structure. Practicing balance. He was building a breakfast tower for the backyard fairy who, he explained very seriously, “gets hungry too.”
He wasn’t wasting time. He was living in it.
So I sat down beside him. I stopped checking the clock. I stopped parenting like I was being graded. And I started listening.
Presence Over Perfection
This shift—from performance to presence—has been echoed by a growing body of research. Studies show that emotionally engaged fathers significantly impact their children’s emotional regulation, academic performance, and resilience. And it’s not about clocking hours or getting it all “right.” It’s about consistency. Emotional availability. Being in it with them.
In fact, dads who practice emotional intelligence—who name their feelings, hold space for their child’s big emotions, and model empathy—raise kids with more emotional self-awareness and confidence.
In other words: You don’t need to be the “strong, silent type.” You just need to be you.
The Rise of the Nontraditional Dad
This new era of fatherhood isn’t limited to suburban stay-at-home dads with podcasts. BIPOC fathers, immigrant dads, queer parents, and blended families are all helping redefine what it means to “show up.”
One Sri Lankan-American dad described fatherhood as an act of “radical generosity”—raising his child with deep cultural pride and emotional vulnerability. A Black father told his kids, “In a world that doesn’t always see Black dads, I will always make sure you feel seen.” A gay couple in Portland documented their adoption journey, emphasizing emotional attunement over perfection.
These stories aren’t anomalies. They’re the new archetypes.
Modern fatherhood is becoming less about asserting authority and more about co-creating a family culture rooted in love, equity, and emotional fluency.
Becoming the Environment
After school drop-off that morning, I sat in the car and thought:
I’m not trying to control his environment.
I’m trying to be the environment.
Not the architect. Not the supervisor. The living, breathing context for him to grow in.
A place where it’s safe to take your time. To wonder. To cry. To explore. To believe in fairies.
It’s not always easy. Some mornings, I still hear the old script hissing in my ear: Hurry up. Get it right. Be the man. But I’m learning to pause, breathe, and choose a new way.
Because I’ve found that when I ditch the expectation and trust the moment, the reward is always the same: connection.
A Final Note for Fellow Dads
If you’re reading this and feeling that same weight of not being “dad enough,” let me offer you this:
There is no singular right way to father.
There is only your way.
Messy, curious, patient, playful, overwhelmed, wise—you, in all your layers, are exactly who your child needs.
So sit down with them. Watch the fairy tower take shape. Be late for something unimportant.
Because presence—real, imperfect, soul-connected presence—is never wasted time.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this edition of The Montessori Dad
Feel free to reach out via email: thefragilemoments@gmail.com
Thanks for trusting me with your email,
P.S. - you are always welcome to say hello and BOOK A FREE CHAT with me HERE (I love connecting with people).