There’s a lot that comes with fatherhood that you can prepare for. You know there’ll be late nights, diaper changes, and plenty of learning as you go. But it’s the things no one really talks about that end up shaping you most.
Take a simple, quiet afternoon on the couch. There’s a lot unsaid here. The tiredness, yes, but also the quiet connection, the shared presence that speaks louder than any words could. What strikes me isn’t just the comfort of lying next to my son—it’s the realization that he’ll never remember this moment, but I will.
We focus a lot on the things we hope to teach our kids. We think about the values, the lessons, the stories they’ll take with them into adulthood. But what I’ve learned is that it’s the smallest, simplest things we do together that often teach the most.
He may never remember the sound of his own laughter, or how we both drifted in and out of sleep, but these moments are shaping me as much as they’re shaping him. Fatherhood is less about the big lessons I plan to teach, and more about the subtle ones I learn along the way.
This season of life is teaching me patience, not because I’m trying to be patient, but because being present requires it. It’s teaching me stillness, because in the silence, I can hear myself think. And it’s teaching me to be okay with the fact that some of the most important things I’ll ever do will never be remembered, and that’s alright. Because they matter anyway.
So much of fatherhood, like this nap on the couch, happens in the margins. It’s not scripted or structured. It’s a series of quiet, unscheduled lessons that slip in when we’re least aware, shaping us, forming us, and changing the way we see the world—one small, unnoticed moment at a time.
Westerman.Blog 