Monologue

What it means to be your Daddy

You know, being your Daddy… it’s not just a title. It’s not something I switch on and off. It’s something I am, especially when I’m with you.

It means I hold space for you, to be soft, to be playful, to be your whole self without fear of being too much or not enough. When you curl up beside me, when your voice goes quiet or your eyes look for reassurance, I see you. And I show up. Not because you need fixing, but because you deserve to feel safe. Held. Seen.

But it’s not all cuddles and calm, is it? Sometimes you test the edges. Sometimes you’re a brat. You poke, you push, you play with fire just to see if I’ll catch it before it burns. And I will. Every time. That’s part of being your Daddy too.

When you act out, I don’t walk away. I don’t get thrown off. I notice. I read between the lines of your sass and your mischief. Sometimes it’s just fun, your way of flirting with the rules. Other times, I know it’s more. You’re asking me: “Will you still like me when I make it hard to?” And the answer, always, is yes.

That’s why I correct you. That’s why I discipline you, not with anger, never with cruelty, but with care. Because structure is part of that care. Because I know you’re capable of more. Because you trust me to hold the line when you can’t. And I honor that trust.

Being your Daddy brings something out in me I didn’t know I needed. I get to be strong, but not cold. Gentle, but not weak. I get to lead with patience, protect without smothering, and support you in a way that gives you room to grow. It grounds me. It challenges me. And it fulfills me in a way nothing else does.

So when you’re good, when you’re cheeky, when you’re testing every nerve I have, I’m still here. Still proud. Still Daddy.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.