Dad Fail Of The Year

Two Christmases ago my wife and I were searching for a good gift for my daughters who are 6 and 4. Naturally, we decided to get them a miniature pony whose appearance was more stuffed animal than horse. He was shorter than a Great Dane, had more hair than a hippie, and had a perfect name...Amigo.  

We gave Amigo to our girls on a frosty December morning that seemed straight out of a Hallmark movie (minus the part where there’s a proposal on Christmas Eve in the middle of a snowy mountain meadow). Our girls shrieked with shock and delight. Later that morning I began writing my acceptance speech for the Dad Of The Year award that I was certain to win. 

Everything went perfectly until four months later when the grass in our pasture began to green up. Ponies can’t have unlimited access to green grass because it can cause severe intestinal and foot problems. They can only have a few hours of grazing and then need to be taken off of the grass and put into a stall or a pen. 

I figured I’d strengthen my already impressive case for Dad Of The Year by using this as an opportunity for my oldest daughter to learn some responsibility. She loves to care for and ride Amigo, why not give her the chore of taking him off pasture and into his stall every evening? (The thought solidified in my head and I began planning an addition on our home. Our current space couldn’t contain the numerous Dad Of The Year trophies that would surely result from such an elite display of fathering) 

The next evening I gave my daughter her mission: move Amigo from the pasture into his pen. 

It was clear, character-developing, and fail proof. Except for the fact that Amigo loves green grass. Why would he trade a buffet of delicious nutrients for a 20x20 dirt stall? As soon as my daughter tried to put him in his pen, the adorable fluffy pony transformed into a Jamaican sprinter with an intravenous drip of Red Bull and began sprinting circles around our three acre pasture. 

For 10 minutes.

I stood on the front porch watching the spectacle with disbelief. I wish I could say I responded by kindly helping her wrangle this newly deranged beast into his pen. Instead, I insisted my daughter keep trying. This was her chance to learn responsibility and overcome adversity. I convinced myself that if I helped my daughter at that moment, then she’d have no work ethic, drop out of high school and live in our basement until she was 47. 

I continued to nag my daughter into trying again. But her effort was in vain as Amigo continued running time trials around the pasture. Fed up with her stubborn horse and narrow minded father, she ran into the house in tears. 

Begin polishing the trophy for Dad Fail of the Year. 

It’s taken months for me to start un-peeling the layers of this story. One of which is how I view effective parenting. Who were good parents? Those whose kids displayed the intended outcomes of obedience, prompt listening, kindness, etc. I equated my ability as a father with the results my kids produced.

So when the pony debacle did not yield the intended result of my daughter of a pony in his pen and a daughter overcoming a challenge, I viewed it as a failure. And it was. Not because the desired outcome wasn’t realized, but because I broke relationship with my daughter. Instead of joining her in the challenge and her disappointment. I stood passively and distantly on the porch, frustrated by the unattained “goal.”

What if good fathering isn’t determined by the behavior and results of our children, but how we choose to be with them in the midst of all that life brings them. 

Where have you valued over results over relationship? Who has stayed in relationship with you when your “results” weren’t ideal?

Jesse French
Restoration Project Chief of Next Steps