When my oldest son was four, my wife, running on fumes, juggling a baby and no sleep, finally lost it.

He had refused to listen for the tenth time, and she snapped. She screamed.

He froze. Then, in the smallest, quietest voice, he said:

“You’re not the one that’s supposed to scare me.”

It was like a dagger in my chest.

She felt awful, of course. (But this story is about me!) And what stayed with me was his words. His description of who I was to him.

I couldn’t shake the thought:

What if my kids remembered me as scary dad, as a bad tempered father?

That moment became a line in the sand. It didn’t make me perfect. But it made me aware. It made me ask the question I’ve been turning over ever since:

What will my kids say about me when I’m not in the room?

Not in a “how will they eulogize me” kind of way. I’m talking about tonight, when they’re brushing their teeth. Next week, when they’re telling a story to a friend. Twenty years from now, when they’re describing their childhood to a therapist, “and then my way-too-hairy dad…” or to a spouse or their own kids.

What echoes will I leave behind?

There’s the Legacy We Intend, and the One We Actually Leave

When we talk about legacy, it’s easy to go abstract: money, values, heritage, a name. But for most of us dads, the real legacy is this:

• The tone of our voice when our kids failed.

• The way we showed up after we lost our temper.

• Whether we were more of a rulebook or a refuge.

• If they saw us laugh, apologize, admit fear, chase something meaningful.

Legacy isn’t always big.
It’s just consistent.

The Rock. The Soft Place. The Trampoline.

In the fatherhood workshop I’m leading this month, we’re looking at three ways we show up — three foundations that shape our legacy whether we’re aware of them or not:

1. The Rock: structure, stability, consistency. The bedrock.

2. The Soft Place: empathy, comfort, grace. The safe lap.

3. The Trampoline: stretch, challenge, risk. The bounce-back zone.

Some of us lean hard into one. Some of us never realize we are missing one. As one global CEO I interviewed explained,

“I’m the parent that they come to when things go right. When they go wrong they go to their mom. They won’t come to me when things get really messy. It makes me wish I was a bit more nurturing than hard charging.”

That kind of reflection invites us to pause and ask:
What do our kids really need from us?
And what are we actually offering them?

We can (and should) shift between these foundations.
Every dad needs to be fluent in all three.
They form the emotional and relational architecture of legacy.

Roles vs. Foundations

Your kids might one day describe you as the Goofball, the Protector, the Teacher, the Listener, the Coach.

These are roles - recognizable personas we tend to embody.
They’re the flavors of fatherhood. The stories they’ll tell:

“He was always teaching.”
“He made me laugh when I wanted to cry.”
“He always had my back.”

But beneath those roles are your foundations, the emotional stance they feel from you day in and day out.

• Are you the steady presence (The Rock)?

• The safe harbor (The Soft Place)?

• The gentle push forward (The Trampoline)?

Your foundation is what your child feels when they’re with you.
Your role is what they’ll say about you later.

You can be the Teacher and still be cold and rigid.
You can be the Goofball but never emotionally available.

But when you understand your foundations, and can shift between them with intention, your roles get depth. They start to mean something.

That’s the legacy we’re after.

Your Legacy Is Not Later

It’s not what happens after you die.
It’s what happens after you leave the room.

• When you hug them goodnight tonight.

• When you say, “Hey, I was too harsh earlier.”

• When you take five minutes to ask, “What’s going on that you’re not telling me about?”

That’s the legacy.
It’s being built right now, brick by brick, moment by moment.

Five Ways to Begin Directing Your Legacy This Month

You don’t need to overhaul your whole life to start shaping the legacy your kids will carry. Start small. Start honest. Here are five intentional moves you can make in the next 30 days:

1. Write a Legacy Letter (and Close the Gap)

Take 15 minutes and write a letter to your child. Not advice. Not correction. Just a snapshot of two things:

• Who you are as a dad right now

• Who you're trying to become

Then write one small commitment inside the gap.

“Right now, I tend to check out when you need me most. I want to be someone who leans in. This week, I’m going to put my phone away at dinner and actually listen.”

That space between who we are and who we want to be… that’s where legacy gets built. But only if we’re brave enough to name it. I’ve written previously about the power of telling our children about the faults in our fatherhood we’re trying to improve. It’s vulnerable and brings us closer (and gives them permission to grow, too.)

2. Ask Your Kid This Question

“What’s something you think I’m good at as a dad? And what’s one thing you wish I did more of?”

When Ambitious Dad and CEO Robert Mulhall asked his son that question, the answer was exactly what you’d expect from a young boy:

“Less of your serious voice… and more watching me play.”

Robert then reflected to me, “I love being in relationship with him, and that he feels safe enough to give me feedback on how to parent.”

3. Choose One Core Foundation to Strengthen

We all lean naturally toward one of three foundations:

• The Rock (structure, stability, safety)

• The Soft Place (comfort, empathy, presence)

• The Trampoline (challenge, permission to grow)

Ask yourself: Which one do I underuse? Which one do my kids need more of right now?

Then act.
If you rarely give praise, affirm effort this week.
If you're great at comfort but avoid hard conversations, lean in gently.

Bonus: If you’re co-parenting, ask yourself which foundation your partner might be struggling with right now, and support that space without judgment (or at least without telling them!)

4. Create a Legacy Trigger

When I coach executives on embodied awareness, I suggest they carry a pen in their pocket. Every time they touch it, they’re meant to take a deep breath, a pattern interrupt.

Same idea here.

Pick something in your day, maybe it’s turning off your alarm, starting the car, brushing your teeth, and turn it into a micro-reminder:

“I will be an intentional safe landing spot for my child.”

Legacy is built in the daily act of remembering what matters most.

5. Record a Voice Memo

When you feel something strong, like love, pride, regret, or hope, hit record. Speak from the heart. Just 1–2 minutes.

One day, that voice, your voice, might be exactly what they need to hear.
And you’ll remind yourself of the dad you’re trying to be.

The Work That Lives On

You don’t need a master plan to leave a meaningful legacy.
You just need to notice, name, and act.

Legacy is not about being perfect. It’s about being present, and being willing to grow in front of your kids, not just for them.

Whether you’re the Rock, the Soft Place, or the Trampoline today, your kid doesn’t need a flawless dad. They need a real one. One who shows up, adjusts, and loves hard.