What a glass of water, an iPad, and one quiet breath taught me about fatherhood and control.

by A Mindful Dad’s Life

This is Part 1 of a 4-part series on building a Stoic morning routine with my son. Each post explores one of the core Stoic virtues — starting with Wisdom.

It starts early. The light barely breaks the edge of the blinds. He’s with me this week. I hear him rustle the blanket and quietly walk to the couch. No words. No eye contact. Just the quiet tap of his thumb on the iPad. YouTube boots up before the sun has a chance to.

I stand there, holding a glass of water. He won’t drink it. And I just watch him for a second. Wondering, is this it? Is this what single-fatherhood looks like?

It’s not judgment. It’s just an observation. He’s 8. He’s tired. He’s adapting. I am too.

But here’s what I know — in my gut: If I don’t help shape this time with him, the world will.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how we begin things. Mornings. Conversations. Relationships. Transitions. And what we teach when we don’t even mean to.

I don’t want our mornings to be just something we survive. I want them to be something we build. Together. Not a schedule I enforce — a rhythm we create. A kind of practice. A shared breath before the day takes off.

And so I’ve turned to something old. Something tested. Stoicism. I’ve read about the virtues — and they feel solid. Honest. Like trail markers in fog.

And the first blazer is Wisdom.

🧠 Wisdom Means Knowing What Matters

Wisdom, in this context, isn’t about knowing everything. It’s about knowing what matters.

Like this:

Can I control whether my son wakes up happy?
 No.

Can I control if he reaches for the iPad?
 Not always.

But I can control what I model.
 I can control the tone I use.
 I can choose presence over impatience.
 That’s Wisdom. And it’s quiet. Almost invisible. But it sets a tone.

When I rush. When I micromanage. When I start barking orders, I can feel the thread snap. We lose the morning.

But if I focus on rhythm — on showing up steady, showing up kind — something shifts. I remind him to drink water. I ask for a hug. I don’t force it.

And he notices. Even if he doesn’t say a word.

🛠 A Tool for Both of Us

So now we do this thing.

After the yawns and stretches. Before screens.

We pause.

Sometimes we light a candle.
 Sometimes we sit in silence.
 Sometimes I ask, “What do you want to be in charge of today?”

He’s 8. But he knows. He just needs room to practice.

🔁 Try This Tomorrow

• For You: Right after you wake up, take a breath. One deep breath. Say to yourself, “Today, I will focus on what matters.”
• Together: Once they’re up, before the rush kicks in, sit with them. Light a candle. Say one thing you can’t control today — and let it go. Then say one thing you can — and own it. End with a quiet hope for the day.

Just a minute. Maybe two. But it grounds everything.

✍️ Final Thought

Not every morning will land. Some will be messy. Some will be rushed.

But this isn’t about control. It’s about rhythm. It’s about choosing how you show up, guiding them to make good choices — and letting those choices speak for themselves.

We’re not just raising kids. We’re raising ourselves, too.

If you’ve got a rhythm that works — drop it in the comments. Maybe it helps another parent catch their breath.

Because all of this? It’s practice. And practice makes a path we can walk clearly.