When Tieri’s Pat on the Back Becomes Everything: A Lesson in Life
The past three years of being a primary and involved father have been transformative, profound, and deeply philosophical. But before I dive in, let me begin with a thought that unsettles me:
Why must I describe myself as an involved father?
The very necessity of the adjective “involved” is a tragedy. A father should simply be, not an “involved father,” not a “hands-on dad,” not a “present parent.” Just Father. The word should be enough. Fatherhood, by its very nature, implies involvement, presence, and sustenance.
Yet, we live in a world where disengaged fathers have become the norm, making it necessary to qualify and distinguish those who fulfill their most fundamental role. I dream of a world where the word “Father” carries its full weight, where it is understood that to father a child is not just to biologically contribute or proclaim to be one but to nurture, to guide, to sustain, and to walk the journey of life side by side with that child.
But that is a discussion for another day.
The Ritual of Mornings: Lessons in the Ordinary
Each morning, I go through the sacred ritual of preparing my son for school. From lifting him from bed to sitting him on the potty, to bathing him, feeding him, dressing him, and walking him to the door, it is a cycle that is as routine as it is enlightening.
To the outside world, this might seem like a simple parenting duty, but for me, it is a masterclass in observation, patience, and love.
I remember when he was born, I referred to him as my new boss, for he dictated my sleep, my schedule, my world. But over time, he has evolved from my boss to my teacher.
Maria Montessori once said, “If we are to instruct life, we must first study life.”
I am learning from him before I teach him. Because how can I truly instruct someone I do not first know? And to know him, I must study him objectively and subjectively.
The Unexpected Gift: A Pat on the Back
In the morning of Friday last week, after the usual routine, I wrapped him in a hug, something I do often. But today was different.
Instead of just receiving the hug, he leaned in, hugged me tightly, and patted me on the back.
For a brief moment, time stopped.
It was a small act, yet it shook me to my core.
Where did he learn it? Was it deliberate? Was he comforting me or simply mirroring an unspoken understanding?
In that moment, my child, my boss, became my teacher once again.
The pat on my back was not expected, nor was it required. The act of raising him, of caring for him, is my duty, not a favour that demands thanks. “Necessity is laid upon me,” as Paul said in the Bible, “Woe unto me if I do not preach the gospel.”
Yet, when gratitude is expressed for something that is already a responsibility, it carries a profound weight.
This moment reinforced something powerful:
Our children see us, even when they cannot yet articulate their gratitude.
Even when they are too young to fully comprehend our sacrifices, they feel the presence, the warmth, the devotion. And one day, whether through words or gestures, they will express what they do not yet know how to say.
Parenting is often thankless in the moment, but appreciation has its own rhythm, it may not come now, but it will come in ways we least expect and at times we most need it.
This morning, my son’s small hands patted my back, and in that gesture, he affirmed something deeper than words ever could.
He sees me.
And that, to me, is everything.
First published on the Power Parenting Exchange® Facebook Page on February 10th, 2025
