“Each child is a different book. Don’t try to read them all with the same glasses.”
Having four kids means I have a front-row seat to chaos, growth… and a rotating mirror of my own flaws. Also, somehow, a front-row seat that never reclines, comes with zero snacks, and occasionally gets peed on. There’s nothing quite like fatherhood to humble you while simultaneously making you feel like you’re supposed to have all the answers.
I’ll confess something that still makes me wince: I’ve compared my kids to each other. Not out of malice—out of habit. Out of fear. Out of love that didn’t know better. “Why can’t you just focus like your sister?” The words have slipped out before I could catch them, landing like small bombs in the room.
But over years of missteps and small victories, I’ve come to believe that meeting your kid where they are might be the most important—and humbling—part of fatherhood. It’s also the part nobody really prepares you for.
The Comparison Trap
We all know the phrases. “Why can’t you be more like your sister?” or “Your brother never had trouble with this.” I’ve caught myself thinking these things even when I managed not to say them out loud. But what’s the unspoken translation?
“Why aren’t you easier for me to understand?”
When we compare our kids, what we’re really saying is: “I have a template for success, and you’re not fitting it.” It’s a shortcut to short-term control that causes long-term damage. Kids aren’t stupid. They feel unseen, unworthy, and pressured to perform your version of success rather than discovering their own.
I learned this the hard way. Let me tell you about two of my kids and their very different math journeys.
✅ Takeaway:
Comparison feels like a shortcut, but it leads to disconnection. Your job isn’t to measure your kids against each other—it’s to help each one measure up to who they’re becoming.
Two Kids. Two Math Grades. Two Very Different Lessons.
Kid A: This one puts in hours of work. Asks for help. Gets frustrated. Stays up late. And despite all that effort? C’s. Sometimes C-minuses.
Past-me: Frustrated. Worried. Comparing this kid to siblings who seemed to “get it” naturally.
Current-me: Deeply, genuinely proud.
What changed? My understanding of what success actually looks like. This kid is learning something far more valuable than algebra—they’re learning that effort matters even when results don’t immediately follow. They’re learning persistence when things don’t come easily. They’re building resilience.
Kid B: Naturally gifted at math. Skates by, barely cracks a book, still pulls B’s without breaking a sweat.
The temptation here is to praise the results. “Great job on that B!” But what about grit? What about the ability to push through challenge? What happens when this kid eventually hits something that doesn’t come easily?
The lesson I’m still learning: Are we rewarding outcome or character?
✅ Takeaway:
Don’t confuse talent with character. One kid’s grit might be another’s easy win—but it’s the effort, not the outcome, that builds long-term strength.
Each Kid Is Wired Differently—And That’s the Point
My four kids might share some DNA and the same address, but they are fundamentally different humans with different:
- Personalities (from my extreme extrovert who needs people like oxygen to my introvert who needs three days to recover from a birthday party)
- Learning styles (visual, hands-on, needs-to-talk-it-through)
- Emotional responses (big emotions that explode vs. quiet withdrawal)
- Motivations (praise, achievement, relationships, curiosity)
They’re not robots, and they’re certainly not mini-me’s. What lights a fire under one kid might completely extinguish another’s spark.
What looks like laziness in one might actually be anxiety. What presents as rebellion might really be fear. What seems like not caring might be a defense mechanism against feeling like they can never measure up.
✅ Takeaway:
Your kid isn’t broken just because they’re not like their sibling—or you. Behavior is communication. Dig underneath it, and you’ll find the real need.
The Science of Comparison
And if you’re wondering whether this is just a soft parenting philosophy—research says otherwise. Studies show sibling comparison leads to:
- Lower self-esteem and confidence
- Strained relationships between siblings that can last into adulthood
- Long-term anxiety and patterns of either overachieving or underperforming
The key insight that hit me hardest: Kids internalize the role they’re given—and either double down or check out. Label a kid “the smart one,” and watch their identity become wrapped up in achievement. Label another “the difficult one,” and don’t be surprised when they live down to expectations.
✅ Takeaway:
Kids tend to live up—or down—to the labels they’re given. Choose words that speak to who they can become, not who they’re failing to be.
Here’s the shift that changed everything for me:
I stopped trying to change my kids—and started trying to understand them.
It’s a small tweak in mindset, but it flipped my whole approach. Instead of parenting with a blueprint of who I thought they should be, I started parenting the actual kid standing in front of me. And that changed everything—from how they responded to me, to how I saw myself as their father.
Meeting Them Where They Are: What It Actually Looks Like
So what does it mean to “meet them where they are”? It’s a nice phrase, but what does it look like in the 6 AM chaos of getting everyone out the door?
It starts with asking a different question. Not “What do I wish they were doing right now?” but “What do they need from me right now?”
It’s a shift from judgment to curiosity:
- “Why is this so hard for them?”
- “What might they be feeling that I’m not seeing?”
- “What strengths do they have that I’m overlooking?”
It means tuning into their specific cues—their energy level, their behavior changes, their frustration points—and responding to the kid in front of you, not the fantasy version you sometimes wish you had.
I’ll be honest: this is hard. It requires patience I don’t always have. Awareness I’m still building. The willingness to let go of my agenda and timeline.
✅ Takeaway:
Shift from expectation to exploration. When you stop demanding they meet your ideal and start asking what they need, everything softens—including you.
What I’m Still Learning (and Screwing Up)
Just last week, I completely missed the mark with my oldest. She was struggling with a science project, and instead of asking questions and letting her find her way, I jumped into fix-it mode. I took over. I pushed too hard. I reacted to my own stress instead of responding to her needs.
The result? A project that got done but a kid who felt steamrolled. Not my finest hour. Pretty sure that one’s going in the Greatest Hits of Dad Fails album, right between “Forgot the field trip form” and “Tried to fix the printer by yelling at it.
But there are other moments—the ones I try to multiply. Like when my daughter was struggling with friend drama, and instead of offering solutions, I just sat and listened. Or when my youngest was having a meltdown about something that seemed trivial, and I managed to get down on his level (literally on the floor) and just be with him in the storm.
These moments aren’t perfect, but they’re honest. And that’s what our kids need most—parents who see them clearly.
✅ Takeaway:
Getting it wrong doesn’t disqualify you from being a good dad. It just proves you’re still in the game—and still growing.
Focused Practice: 3 Ways to Meet Your Kid Where They Are
Look, I’m no parenting guru—I once bribed a toddler with Tic Tacs and called it a negotiation.
But here are three things I’m working on that seem to help:
- One-on-One Time: Create intentional space to connect without agenda. For one kid, this means shooting hoops. For another, it’s baking something together. The activity matters less than the message: “I want to be with YOU specifically.”
- Praise the Process: “I see how hard you’re working on this”—not just “Good job.” Specific feedback about their effort and character builds intrinsic motivation rather than performance addiction.
- Listen Before You Teach: When struggles come up, ask “What’s hard about this for you?” before jumping to advice. Understanding their perspective changes everything about how you can help.
✅ Takeaway:
Connection doesn’t require perfection—it requires intention. Small, consistent moments of presence shape trust more than any big gesture ever could.
The Real Goal of Fatherhood
I’m slowly learning that love isn’t about lifting them to my level—it’s about getting low enough to see them clearly.
The goal isn’t to mold them into mini-me’s with my strengths and interests. Which is good, because one neurotic overachiever constantly chasing “just a little better” is already exhausting enough—for all of us. It’s to guide whole versions of themselves into becoming the people they were created to be.
Meeting them where they are isn’t lowering the bar. It’s raising my understanding. It’s doing the hard work of truly knowing four distinct humans who happen to share my last name.
And that… might just be the hardest work a father ever does. It’s certainly the most important.
But here’s what keeps me going: Every time I get it right—every time I see one of my kids light up because they feel truly seen—I catch a glimpse of the father I want to be. And somehow, that makes all the mistakes along the way worth it.
So here’s to the journey, fellow dads. We’re all works in progress, just like our kids.
The Focused Fool Newsletter. Growing as Men. Leading as Fathers.
Leave a Reply