I never thought I’d be a father who had to tiptoe around his own children. But here I am, married with two kids, and my wife has told me, in no uncertain terms, not to approach them as if I were a stranger. The words hit me harder than I expected.
It started when my work schedule spiraled out of control. Long nights at the office turned into business trips, and “just this week” became months of barely being home. When I finally had a few days off, I was excited to spend time with my kids. But when I walked into the living room, they didn’t run into my arms—they just stared, almost shy, like I was some guest they hadn’t met before. My heart broke.
That’s when my wife pulled me aside. “You can’t just drop in after weeks away and expect them to be comfortable,” she said. “You have to rebuild trust. Approach them slowly. Don’t act like you’re a stranger barging in.” At first, I was defensive—I’m their dad! But deep down, I knew she was right. To them, my absence had created a gap I couldn’t fill with a few hugs and gifts.
So I tried something different. Instead of swooping in with forced enthusiasm, I sat with them while they played, listened to their stories, and joined in when they invited me. I started making small, steady changes—reading bedtime stories, helping with homework, even cooking breakfast on weekends. It wasn’t instant, but I began to see their guarded looks turn into genuine smiles.
Now, I understand what my wife meant. She wasn’t forbidding me out of cruelty—she was begging me to be present, to earn back the closeness I’d let slip away. And slowly, I’m doing it. Not as a stranger, not as a visitor, but as the dad they need every single day.
