I’ve Discovered What It Takes to Transform My Husband Into “Superdad.” If Only He Were Like This All of the Time.
Care and Feeding is Slate’s parenting advice column. Have a question for Care and Feeding? Submit it here.
Dear Care and Feeding,
My husband is a great dad to our toddler. He’s loving, patient, responsive, and fun. As our kid grows, he’s more and more willing to be silly with her, too. Sometimes things are tough, of course—he had no experience with kids before we had our baby, while I’m a preschool teacher and have nannied and babysat my whole life. I’m also still breastfeeding our daughter, which gives me a distinct advantage when it comes to calming her down. I’m definitely the primary parent.
As to our marriage: We have our squabbles about how to load the dishwasher and how much time is spent on our phones, but we’re honest with each other, and we fight fair. He’s very responsive when I bring up a problem or make a suggestion. Sometimes I wish he would take more initiative with the baby.
Overall, we’re happy. Here’s the problem: When he’s around other dads, he turns into Superdad. He plays games that would put Bandit and Chili Heeler to shame, makes use of the verbal techniques suggested by the Montessori and Dr. Becky books, and immediately goes for the diaper bag when a diaper change is needed (needless to say, this is not what happens when he has no audience but me). Our friend group includes a number of very involved dads. It feels to me like he’s showing off, or at least trying to prove he’s “as good” as they are. I don’t know if this is intentional or not, or even if he’s aware at all of what he’s doing.
Should I say something about this? Is it even worth a discussion? I don’t know if it’s fair for me to wish he would be “play date Dad” all the time instead of only when other dads are watching. Should I just appreciate having something good and something great when he’s around his dad buddies? Our kid loves playing with her friends and all their Superdads when we get together, and I love getting to sit with a glass of wine while someone else changes a poopy diaper. What do you think?
—Am I Lois Lane in This Scenario?
I don’t think staying silent about something that bothers you is ever a good strategy in a relationship. Long term, it bodes big trouble. But I am also 99 percent certain that if you phrase your dissatisfaction with the status quo as, “Why can’t you be this way all the time?”, pointing out the difference between his private and public parenting behavior, or tell him that you think he’s showing off or treating fatherhood like a competition, the “discussion” will not go well. He’ll get defensive. Or he’ll be embarrassed and lash out (especially if he’s doing this without being aware of it, or being only dimly aware of it and is already ashamed of himself without quite understanding why).
Try, instead, a strategy of positive reinforcement. Not as a way to manipulate him, but as a way to show him how much you appreciate his active participation in parenting your toddler when you’re out and about with her. In other words: Focus on what he is doing, not on what he’s not. Don’t thank him (he’s not doing you a favor; he’s just doing what he’s supposed to do) or praise him as if he were a child (“You did so good today, honey!”). Just let him know that when he tends to your child’s needs, it makes you love him even more, and make sure to mention how lovely it was to sit and drink that glass of wine.
But also, when your family is home alone, wait a beat—wait 10, 20, 50 beats—before you leap up to tend to your daughter. Give him a chance to notice that she needs her diaper changed, wants to be picked up, or has woken from a nap. He may not even realize that you’re always the one to do what needs to be done. Or he may realize it but figure that you’re fine with it (you’ve never told him otherwise, right?). If he’s still sitting there doomscrolling all those beats later, while the scent of poop wafts through the room, try saying, “Hmm, I think a diaper change is needed.” If he doesn’t say, “Ah, yeah, I’ll do that,” try looking at him expectantly. Give him a chance to do more without having to tell him to. But if he continues to play Superdad in public and Shirkerdad in private, take it up a notch: “She needs _____. Would you do it?”
One last thing: Since you only ever see the other dads when they’re among other dads, has it ever occurred to you that they all may be playing a role? Doing way more than they do at home? It would not surprise me in the least. (Not that this is material to your concern. I’m just saying that your admiration of the others may be founded on a shaky premise.)
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