Meet Default Dad

The tired, scroll-happy version of you that your child knows best, and 3 small ways to start shifting him.

Last Tuesday evening, I was battling my second kid-gifted head cold in a month.

I’d done four virtual coaching sessions and a podcast interview, then spent the better part of an hour cooking dinner, cleaning up the half of it that didn’t make it into their mouths, and stopping WWIII over Hot Wheels ownership.

I was beyond exhausted.

When my boys finally retreated into their playroom, I snuck into the bedroom, crashed onto the bed, and started doom-scrolling. I was toast, and I still had another ninety minutes before bedtime.

Secretly, I was hoping they’d just…figure it all out without me. That they’d magically decide on their own when bedtime was, change clothes, brush teeth, find a book, and hop into bed without me having to raise my voice and herd them like caffeinated cats.

You can guess what what happened next… Cue the screaming and crying!

I had nothing left in the tank. I snapped. I jumped out of my trance and went straight into drill-sergeant mode. I yelled at my oldest for hitting his brother, yelled at his brother for pestering him, and couldn’t have brought less empathy to the moment if I dropped a casual, “And by the way, Santa doesn’t even exist.”

That version of me?
That’s Default Dad.

Who Is Default Dad?

I loosely define Default Dad as:

A bundle of habits, stress responses, phone checks, and half-inherited patterns from our own childhood, rather than the intentional father we actually want to be.

In leadership coaching, we’d call this the difference between present state and future state.

• Present state is the dad who shows up at 8 p.m. when everyone’s tired and snaps.

• Future state is the dad you actually want your kids to remember.

That gap between who our kids actually experience when we’re exhausted and out of patience, and who we want to be is where a lot of our quiet dad-guilt lives.

You can hear Default Dad between the lines of so many interviews I’ve done:

“I was so tired and frustrated in dealing with potty training my second son. I felt like I didn’t have enough self-control in some situations.”
- Kevin Thompson, COO

“I struggle to find what is enough, to turn off my drive for productivity, and just sit down and be with my kids.”
- Brett Astor, psychologist

“It takes too long to convert from work mode to dad mode, and there are times when it’s just really difficult and I lose my patience too fast.”
- Devin Merrill, SVP and GM

Most ambitious dads I talk to say some version of:

• “I feel like I’m winging it.”

• “At work I know exactly who I am. At home, I’m not so sure.”

• “I love my kids, but my days feel like one long reaction.”

The hardest part to all this is that we all want to be exceptional in our daddying, but our kids don’t experience our intentions. They experience our patterns.

So the question becomes: How do we start shifting those patterns on purpose?
And how do I recognize is this Default Dad we’d all quite happily put on a Venezuelan drug boat for a while?

Meet Your Default Dad (Then Upgrade Him)

First, no one’s alone here: every dad has a Default Dad.

You’re not a bad father because yours shows up, but you’re living in fantasy land (and not the Pornhub kind) if you never admit he exists.

Default Dad is your Homer Simpson side, not your Bandit (Bluey’s-dad) side:

• The guy who walks in the door after a brutal day.

• The version of you that doesn’t want to play Monopoly or build a hot wheels track or have an imaginary tea party but would be happy watching paint dry for a bit.

• The one your kids experience most often when you’re not trying to be “on.”

He’s just tired, under-resourced, and running an old operating system.

I find it fun to define his style and put a horrible dad-joke-name to his attractive, albeit exhausted face:

• Does he manage everything like a project? (“Let’s optimize bedtime.”). This is Gantt Chart Charlie.

• Does he police behavior? (“Stop. Don’t. Why would you do that?”). Welcome Major Mood Killer

• Does he disappear into his phone? Hello Dr. Insta Gramer.

• Does he crack dad jokes to avoid anything heavy? Hello Mr. Pun-isher

• Does he grab a strong drink and emotionally check out? Don Draper

Make it a little funny and a little uncomfortable. I am definitely Dr Insta Gramer (ok, maybe Facebook Scroller but I won’t admit it).

And when I realize it, I try to ask myself “is this how I want my boys to experience me right now?”

Inevitably, a little guilt will kick in and I’ll think about my fatherhood philosophy. This is something I created in my Founding Fathers program. It’s a short, working description of the kind of dad I want to be and how I want my kids to experience me. It doesn’t have to be fancy. One or two sentences is enough.

It’s your upgrade path for Default Dad.

If your Default Dad is Major Mood Killer, your Fatherhood Philosophy might include: “I guide rather than control. My kids feel safe bringing me their mistakes.”

If your Default Dad is Don Draper, it might sound like: “I show up when it’s inconvenient, not just when it’s fun. My kids feel I’m reachable.”

You’re not erasing Default Dad. You’re saying:

“This is the version that shows up on autopilot… and this is the dad I’m intentionally growing into.”

Once those two are on the table, Default Dad and the dad you want your kids to remember, every hard moment becomes a little clearer:

Which one of us is about to walk into this room?

3 Ways to Start Moving Out of Default Dad Territory

We’ve all got Default Dads inside us, so here are three small, practical levers we can pull this week to move the needle or something.

1. Catch Your Default Dad “Scenes”

Instead of trying to fix everything, just identify your top three Default Dad scenes. Think: the repeatable moments where he always shows up.

• 7:30 a.m. school rush

• Walking in the door after work

• 8:45 p.m. bedtime chaos

• Weekend sports or homework stress

Literally write them down:

“Default Dad shows up most at: [list your 3 scenes].”

This does two things:

1. It normalizes it. (“Oh, right, this is my pattern, not a personal moral failure.”)

2. It tells your nervous system: “Heads up, this is one of those moments. I knew you were coming.”

Sometimes just naming the scene takes 20% of the sting out of it.

2. Give Future Dad One Tiny Move

Now pick one of those scenes and design a tiny Future Dad move you’ll try next time. You’re not redesigning your whole personality. You’re upgrading the scene by 5–10%.

For example:

Default Dad barges into the room and starts yelling.
Future Dad’s tiny move: pause in the hallway, take three slow breaths, and walk in with one curious question:

“Hey, what just happened here?”

Default Dad reaches for his phone while they’re playing.
Future Dad’s tiny move: put the phone in another room for 10 minutes and say out loud,

“I’m putting my phone away because I want to be with you.”

Default Dad tries to fix everything instantly.
Future Dad’s tiny move: repeat back what you heard:

“So you’re really mad because he took your car without asking?”

The bar is meant to be as low as your standards on your 21^st birthday.

You’re building a pattern interrupt, not chasing perfection. Over time, those tiny moves start to teach your kids (and your own nervous system) that there’s a different way you can show up.

3. Debrief and Repair Like It’s Normal

Even with all this, Default Dad will still hijack the wheel sometimes. We are human and imperfect. What matters is what we do after.

Ambitious Dad Brett Astor told me he’d realized just how much his kids simply wanted him, not a polished performance:

“I struggle to find what is enough. Good enough dad… Kids just want that kind attention.”

So make debrief + repair part of your normal script:

• “Hey, I didn’t like how I spoke to you before. That was my tired, (Default) Dad. You didn’t deserve that.”

• “Next time I want to try taking a breath first. How did it feel for you when I yelled?”

You’re teaching your kids that we aren’t perfect AND that we’re aware and growing.

That’s the opposite of Default Dad. That’s an intentional father they can actually trust.

One Last Thought

You will always have a Default Dad. I recognize mine daily.

He’s baked from our history, our wiring, our culture, our exhaustion. The goal isn’t to kill him off; it’s to stop letting him run the whole show.

If you do nothing else after reading this, try this simple experiment:

1. Name your Default Dad.

2. Pick one scene where he usually appears.

3. Design one tiny Future Dad move for that scene.

4. When you blow it anyway (because you will), circle back and repair.

That’s it.

That’s how fatherhood identity gets built, not in some grand moment of reinvention, but in a hundred small choices about which version of you your kids get to experience today.