What's it like being a dad?

A friend of mine recently asked me, What's it like being a dad? What a wonderful question - and one that, after almost five years of joyful parenthood, I hadn't been asked. My friend's question, and how joyful I felt in responding, inspired me to put pen to paper (and then hands to keyboard!)

What's it like being a dad?

Every moment is enough to fill my heart for a lifetime.

Every room becomes a canvas you love to explore. Every button gets pressed. Every lid comes off. Anything sticky-outy or weirdly shaped is studied with wonder, followed by the kind of questions only a four-year-old can ask, usually with the greatest humour known to humankind.

And the words you say. "Yellow" will always be lellow to me now. My plectrum is no longer a plectrum, it’s a petrol. And vinyl records? Forever renamed rhinos. You’ve rebranded the world with joy.

Then there’s the laughter. The endless laughter. I once tried counting how many times you laughed in ten minutes. I gave up halfway through. You’d already passed ten in the first few.

No matter the bruise, the bad day, the burden, your laugh makes it all disappear. You crack open the world, and light floods in.

Every moment is enough to fill my heart for a lifetime.

You say, "Do your silly things, Daddy." So I do.

I throw my limbs around. I become a horse, a camel, a boat, an aeroplane, and our favourite: holding you upside down, and walking your feet on the ceiling.

I know I’ve reached peak silliness when you shout “AGAIN!” Sometimes I get the feedback: “NO! Not that! Do your other silly things!” So I try again. And again. And again. It’s the best work I’ve ever done!

Brushing teeth, putting on socks, shoes, clothes ... it’s all a zig-zag of creative avoidance. And even when we're late, I don’t want to rush you. Your mind and mischief are too precious and comically brilliant.

There will be a last time for all of this.

The day you were born, a part of my heart opened that I didn’t even know was there. And now, with each laugh, question, hug, and idea, that part grows.

It’s infinite. It’s boundless. And it’s the most fragile thing I’ve ever known. The tiniest moment can bring tears that we'ren't there before.

So what’s it like being your dad?

It’s the greatest, most unimaginable privilege, Miriam. You are joy. And every moment is enough to fill my heart for a lifetime.

Thank you for reading, and take care of yourself.

Benjamin