Dads at the school gate come in all forms. Some are there every morning. Some appear so rarely the teachers treat them like visiting dignitaries. Some know every child, every parent, and every rumour before the newsletter has even gone out.

The Hard Man

This dad walks up to the gate like he is entering a boxing ring, even though he is carrying a unicorn lunchbox and a water bottle covered in Paw Patrol stickers.

He is not aggressive, exactly. He just has the permanent expression of a man who is ready to sort something out. Bad parking? He has noticed. Someone vaping too close to the entrance? He has clocked it. A Year Four child riding a scooter slightly too fast? He is already narrowing his eyes.

His own child, naturally, is usually tiny, polite, and wearing a cardigan.

The Poser

The Poser has turned the school run into a low-level fashion shoot. Sunglasses in October. Designer trainers that have never seen mud. A coat that looks unsuitable for both parenting and weather.

He leans against the car like he is waiting to be photographed for an album cover, not collecting a child who will immediately wipe yoghurt on his sleeve.

The annoying thing is, he does usually look good. Somehow his hair is done before 8.45am.

The Overly Enthusiastic One

He volunteers for everything. School fair? He is on it. Reading morning? Front row. Sponsored walk? He has already made a spreadsheet.

He is lovely, but exhausting. He knows the teachers by first name, remembers every themed day, and somehow has the energy to say “Morning!” like he means it.

Other dads admire him from a safe distance, in the same way you might admire someone climbing Everest. Impressive, yes. But you would rather not join in.

The Car Park General

This dad has strong views about traffic flow. Very strong views.

He knows which parents park badly, which residents are “looking for a row”, and which side street gives you the cleanest getaway after drop-off. He does not simply arrive at school. He executes a manoeuvre.

He can reverse into a space the size of a crisp packet while muttering about people who “just abandon it anywhere”.

The One Who Knows Too Much

Every school has one. He knows who is leaving, who is pregnant, which teacher is moving year groups, and why the headteacher looked stressed last Thursday.

Nobody has officially told him any of this. He just knows.

He gets his information through casual chats, overheard corridor comments, and a wife who is in three WhatsApp groups he pretends not to read. If MI5 ever recruited from primary schools, he would be first on the list.

The Tactical Avoider

This dad is not rude. He is just trying to get in and out without accidentally committing to a conversation, a playdate, or helping with tombola.

He stands slightly away from the main group, usually checking emails that may or may not exist. When someone catches his eye, he gives a small nod. Not unfriendly. Not welcoming. Just enough human contact to remain socially acceptable.

He has mastered the art of looking busy while doing absolutely nothing.

The Weekend Football Manager

His child plays for an under-eights team, and he now speaks entirely in tactical analysis.

He can turn a school-gate chat about packed lunches into a discussion about pressing from the front. He says things like “they need to learn shape” about children who still believe clouds follow the car.

On match days, he wears a club coat and carries himself like the fate of English football rests on him organising the substitutes properly.

The Calm Late Dad

He arrives late every morning but never seems stressed. This is what makes him so confusing.

His child is jogging beside him with one shoe half on, hair untouched by human hands, book bag swinging open, yet he strolls in as if this was always the plan.

“Plenty of time,” he says, while the bell is actively ringing.

You want to hate him, but you cannot. There is something peaceful about a man who has simply accepted chaos as a lifestyle.

The Bag For Life Dad

This dad is prepared for everything, but not in a polished way. He has snacks, gloves, tissues, plasters, a spare jumper, a toy car, three old permission slips, and possibly a banana from last week.

All of this lives inside a battered supermarket bag that looks like it has survived several governments.

He is not stylish. He is not organised in the traditional sense. But when your child needs a tissue, a biscuit, or a carrier bag because their “craft” is still wet, he becomes the most important man on the playground.

The Accidental PTA Dad

He went to one meeting because nobody else could make it, and now he is somehow in charge of gazebos.

He does not know how this happened. One minute he was nodding politely about raffle prizes, the next he had a hi-vis vest and responsibility for extension leads.

He is not naturally a committee man, but he is reliable, which is fatal. Schools can smell reliable parents from miles away.

The Normal Dad Trying His Best

This is most of us, really.

Slightly tired. Occasionally late. Sometimes sociable, sometimes desperate to leave. Proud when we remember World Book Day, quietly broken when we forget the water bottle.

We are all a bit of every dad on this list. Some days you are the Avoider. Some days you are the Car Park General. Every now and then, against all odds, you become the Overly Enthusiastic One and sign up for something you immediately regret.

The truth is, the school gate makes strange characters of us all. It turns grown men into nodding acquaintances, amateur detectives, traffic experts, snack smugglers, and social cowards.

And then, just when you think you have got the whole thing figured out, your child asks why you were “standing weird” near the bins.

Nothing keeps a dad humble like the school run.

Grab something practical like a comfy breastfeeding pillow to make feeding and settling easier; it holds the baby just right in those late hours. This guide breaks down why your baby won’t sleep and gives fixes that actually work fast. Tackle ’em one by one, and those rough nights turn into real rest for you all.

Common Physical Discomforts That Prevent Baby From Settling

Babies feel stuff super strong, so little aches turn into big no-sleep drama. Your baby won’t sleep even when dead tired, making bedtime a fight. Let’s hit the usual suspects and fix ’em quick.

Gas

Gas builds up from air they swallow or milk that doesn’t digest right. Baby squirms, arches their back, pulls legs to chest. Easy fix: tummy time on something soft, or lay ’em on back and pedal their legs like a bike. Burp often too, every couple minutes mid-feed, to let those bubbles out before they get bad.

Teething

Teething hits around six months with puffy red gums and drools everywhere, soaking sheets and outfits. Chill a washcloth or teething ring for numb relief, or rub a clean finger gentle on the gums, it soothes right away. Overheating sneaks up too; too many clothes means sweat and cranky vibes. Put one extra layer on the baby than you got on, check their neck, if damp, peel one off. Keep the room at 68 to 72 degrees Fahrenheit, nice and cool.

Reflux

Reflux bugs lots of newborns, milk comes back up, burns their throat. They cry hard after eating, arch backs in pain. Hold ’em up straight 20-30 minutes after feeding, and prop the crib mattress head a tad (no pillows though, suffocation danger).

The Early Signs

Spot these early with these signs:

• Gas: Fists tight, grunting, knees to chest
• Teething: Drool city, chewing fists, tugging ears
• Overheating: Sweaty head or neck, fast breaths, red cheeks
• Reflux: Spits up lots after eats, hiccups that won’t quit

Developmental Milestones and Their Impact on Sleep Cycles

Babies grow fast, and those leaps mess with sleep big time. Your baby won’t sleep deep ’cause their brain’s buzzing with new stuff, stealing rest time. Hits on schedules like growth spurts at 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 weeks, then milestones every couple months.

Take three months, they get hooked on their hands, staring, grabbing, won’t quit, so drifting off? Nope. Four months, rolling over the big thing; they practice in the crib, waking themselves over and over. Sleep regressions crank it up, at nine months, separation anxiety plus crawling or standing means crib jailbreaks at night. Even pre-walking brain work tires ’em out, chopping nights into wake-ups.

Naps shorten daytime, stretches night wakings. Log it all simple, milestones next to sleep shifts, patterns pop right out. To get through:

• Extra daytime cuddles to fill their love tank
• Practice skills in playtime, like rolling on a soft mat
• Stick to routines for that steady feel amid the storm

Creating the Ultimate Sleep-Inducing Nursery Environment

The nursery sets the sleep signal for the baby. Make a cozy “sleep cave,” and baby won’t sleep moments? Gone. Blackout first, heavy curtains or shades kill every light bit, for naps or night feeds; dark kicks in rest mode. White noise is steady, like womb sounds from a machine, ocean waves or fan hum, to block house noise. Crib basics: firm mattress, tight sheet only. No blankets, bumpers, toys till one year, SIDS no-go. Swaddle newborns tight for that hugged feel.

Temp cool with air moving, 68-72°F, humidifier if dry for comfy air. Lavender whiff on a cloth nearby (not on baby) calms extra. Build the ritual:

• Red nightlight for changes, keeps melatonin going
• Same sleep spot always for good vibes
• Soft surfaces everywhere, like changing pads

Identifying and Avoiding the “Overtired” Threshold

Nothing sabotages sleep like overtiredness, where missing the ideal window triggers a cortisol surge, leaving the baby wired yet exhausted. This vicious cycle ensures your baby won’t sleep even when desperate for it. Spotting early cues prevents escalation: subtle yawning evolves into eye-rubbing, dazed stares, and escalating fussiness from whines to wails.

Tailor wake windows by age to stay ahead:

• Newborns: 45-60 minutes
• 3 months: 90 minutes
• 6 months: 2 hours
• 9 months: 3 hours maximum

Set phone timers post-nap, following a feed-play-sleep cycle, and ban screens, their blue light ramps up alertness. Common traps include late-evening play that sneaks in fatigue or skipped naps that shorten future windows. Rescue overtired moments with gentle rocking, but reset with stricter timing tomorrow. Catch it early, and sleep transitions flow effortlessly, patience here yields massive rewards.

The Importance of a Predictable and Calming Bedtime Routine

A consistent bedtime routine acts as a powerful cue, reassuring baby that rest is near and helping prevent those “baby won’t sleep” marathons. Begin 30 minutes before your target bedtime: a warm bath relaxes tense muscles, followed by gentle lotion massage on legs, arms, and back under dim lights to boost melatonin.

Transition to a calm feeding spot, perhaps with soft rocking and lullabies. Add a short book for bonding, then activate white noise, whisper goodnights, and place in the crib drowsy but awake. Protect this ritual fiercely, pack a portable kit for travel or share the exact script with partners. The benefits compound over time:

• Predictability reduces resistance
• It releases built-up daytime stress
• Fosters emotional security

Distinguishing Between Hunger Cues and Comfort Seeking

Confusing hunger with comfort needs prolongs wakings, so learning to differentiate is key when your baby won’t sleep. True hunger shows urgent rooting: sucking fists, lip-smacking, and frantic cries, with head turning to cheek strokes. Time since the last feed matters, under four hours for young infants signals real need.

Comfort seeking, however, involves softer whimpers, failed self-soothing, and quick settling in arms, often with eye contact craving connection over calories. Test with a “dream feed” before your own bedtime: gently top off without fully waking them. If they drift off sans feeding, it is comforting. Balance strategically:

• Cluster feeds in evenings for newborns
• Phase out dream feeds by six months
• Introduce solids later to extend night stretches

Age-Appropriate Wake Windows and Daytime Nap Balance

Daytime naps directly fuel nighttime sleep, but poor balance means your baby won’t sleep when darkness falls. Newborns need 16-18 total hours, catnapping frequently in 3-4 short bursts with 45-60 minute wake windows.

By four months, consolidate to three naps (2-3 hours total), stretching windows to 2.5 hours. At six to eight months, drop to two naps with three-hour windows and 14 total hours. Toddlers transition to one nap amid four-hour windows.

Optimize with this chart:

When to Consult a Pediatrician About Persistent Sleep Issues

While most tweaks yield quick wins, if your baby won’t sleep issues linger for weeks, professional input is wise. Red flags warrant a prompt visit:

• Snoring or breathing pauses (possible sleep apnea)
• Night terrors: Intense screams with open, unresponsive eyes
• Extreme fussiness paired with fever, rash, or poor weight gain
• Regressions exceeding four weeks

Maintain a detailed sleep log with times, feeds, and cry durations, and share it. Pediatricians can rule out ear infections, allergies, anemia, or rare conditions like restless legs syndrome. Trust your instincts; expert reassurance provides peace beyond enduring alone.

Final Thoughts

You’ve got the tools to conquer this, baby won’t sleep phases forge resilient parents. Layer in discomfort fixes, rock-solid routines, and nap balance for steady progress. Celebrate milestones like that first solid stretch. Your rested family awaits sweeter dreams ahead.

You know the sort. Fast, loud, over in seconds. Someone shouting, someone reacting, someone being made the centre of a joke they didn’t sign up for.

After a few minutes, it started to feel uncomfortable. Not because any one video crossed a line on its own, but because of the pattern. People weren’t really people in these clips. They were props. Obstacles. Punchlines. Their reactions were the content, and their feelings didn’t seem to get a second thought.

That’s the bit that stuck with me, because this isn’t just entertainment our kids are watching—it’s a steady stream of examples showing them what’s normal, what’s funny, and what gets rewarded.

I think it is warping our children’s idea of what is right and wrong.

The New Rules Social Media Rewards

Spend any time watching short-form content and certain patterns become obvious. The clips that travel furthest tend to revolve around getting a reaction, usually by putting someone else in an awkward, uncomfortable, or outright unfair situation.

What’s missing is just as important as what’s there. There’s rarely any pause to consider how it felt for the person on the receiving end, and almost never any sense of what happened afterwards. The reaction is the product, and everything else is irrelevant.

Over time, that shifts the emphasis away from empathy and towards outcome.

• Did it get a laugh?
• Did it get shared?
• Then it worked.

That’s the only metric that seems to matter.

And because everyone is chasing that same outcome, the content naturally escalates. Each video has to go a bit further than the last to stand out—louder, more intrusive, more outrageous. It creates a cycle where other people are increasingly treated as content rather than individuals, and where pushing boundaries becomes part of the process rather than something to question.

When Attention Becomes The Goal

Kids aren’t being explicitly told to behave like this, but they are constantly seeing what gets rewarded. The message isn’t spoken, but it’s clear enough: attention equals success. Not respect, not kindness, not even creativity in the traditional sense—just visibility.

The problem is that the consequences rarely appear alongside the content. What they see is the action and the reaction, followed by likes, shares, and comments. They don’t see the fallout, the conversations off-camera, or the longer-term impact on the people involved. It creates a distorted version of reality where the benefits are immediate and visible, and the downsides are either hidden or delayed.

That quietly reshapes how behaviour is judged. Instead of asking “is this right?”, the question becomes “does this work?” And in that environment, going too far doesn’t necessarily feel like a mistake. It can start to feel like a strategy.

A Real Example Of How That Plays Out

You don’t have to look far to see how this dynamic plays out in real life.

Take Mizzy, who built a following in 2023 by pushing well past what most people would consider acceptable. His videos included walking into strangers’ homes uninvited while families were inside, running off with an elderly woman’s dog, asking random people if they “want to die”, and harassing members of the public for a reaction.

It worked. The more extreme the behaviour, the more attention it got—something he openly acknowledged, saying that “controversy… is the best way to blow up on social media.”

There was backlash, arrests, and eventually a criminal behaviour order restricting what he could do. For a while, it looked like that might force a change.

After serving time, he spoke openly about turning things around. He became a father, said it had changed his outlook, and talked about wanting a normal life—working in construction, going back to college, and staying away from the kind of content that got him into trouble in the first place.

But that’s where the bigger issue comes in.

Because when attention is tied so strongly to extreme behaviour, stepping away from it often means stepping away from visibility altogether. And over time, that pull back towards what worked before becomes hard to ignore.

More recently, similar patterns have started to reappear from Mizzy. Causing disruption in public, cycling through shops, pulling wheelies around people, all designed to get a reaction.

That’s not just about one person making the same mistake twice. It’s about how difficult it is to walk away from a system that rewards the very behaviour you’re trying to leave behind.

The Bit That Should Worry Us As Parents

The concern isn’t that every child watching this is going to copy it directly. Most won’t. The issue is more subtle than that. It’s about what repeated exposure does to their sense of what’s normal.

When the same patterns show up again and again—people being treated as props, boundaries being pushed for laughs, reactions being valued over feelings—it starts to shape expectations. Not in a dramatic way, but gradually. Kids begin to absorb the idea that other people’s discomfort isn’t necessarily a problem if it leads to attention, or that being noticed matters more than being considerate.

That doesn’t mean they suddenly lose their sense of right and wrong entirely, but it can blur the edges. It can make certain behaviours feel less serious than they are, or make empathy feel less central than it should be. And because it’s happening in the background, it often goes unnoticed until it shows up somewhere else.

Where That Leaves Us As Parents

There isn’t a simple fix for any of this. Social media isn’t going anywhere, and trying to block it out entirely isn’t realistic for most families. But there is a difference between letting it run unchecked and helping kids make sense of what they’re seeing.

That starts with paying attention to the content itself, not just the screen time. Watching with them occasionally, noticing what gets a reaction, and using those moments as a way into a conversation rather than a lecture. Simple questions tend to go further than rules.

Asking questions:

• “Do you think that person was actually okay with that?”
• “Would it still be funny if it happened to you?”
• “Why do you think that got so many views?”

This can help shift the focus back towards empathy.

It also helps to draw a clear line between attention and respect. Social media often blurs the two, but they’re not the same thing. Someone can be widely seen without being widely respected, and understanding that difference is important. Because in the end, the issue isn’t just what our kids are watching. It’s what they’re learning from it.

The internet might not be deliberately teaching them values, but it is showing them, over and over again, what gets rewarded. And if the loudest examples are the ones that ignore boundaries or treat people like props, then it’s up to us to make sure those messages don’t go unchallenged.

But that’s exactly what happened earlier this month at the Lucky Saint pub in London, where “Pints and Ponytails” brought together a group of dads for a slightly unusual kind of evening.

The idea was simple enough. Learn how to do your daughter’s hair. The setting made it a lot more interesting.

Seriously though, what a brilliant idea.

What The Event Actually Was

“Pints and Ponytails” was a small workshop organised by the Secret Life of Dads community, aimed at helping fathers get to grips with basic hair styling.

We’re not talking about anything over the top. This was about the fundamentals. Ponytails, plaits, and the sort of things that actually come up on a normal school morning.

Around 30 to 40 dads turned up, and instead of practising on their kids (which probably wouldn’t have gone well), they worked on mannequin heads laid out across pub tables. There was guidance from people who knew what they were doing, but the whole thing stayed relaxed and informal.

No pressure. No awkward classroom feel. Just dads having a go. And a pint. Or maybe two.

More Important Than It Seems

It’s easy to look at something like this and think it’s just a bit of fun. And it is. But there’s a reason it struck a chord.

Hair is one of those everyday parenting jobs that a lot of dads just never really learn. Not because they don’t want to, but because it’s always been one of those things someone else handled.

Then suddenly you’re the one doing the school run, or getting them ready in the morning, and you realise you’re completely winging it.

And kids notice. Not in a critical way, but in the small details. Whether you can do their hair properly. Whether you take the time to try. Whether you’re confident doing it.

That’s where something like this comes in. It takes a small gap and actually does something about it. It’s important and has a deeper meaning than it seems on the surface.

It Didn’t Take Itself Too Seriously

What makes this work isn’t just the idea. It’s how it was done.

Putting it in a pub changes everything. It immediately makes it feel more accessible, less like you’re signing up for a parenting class and more like you’re just going out for a pint and picking something up along the way.

You can imagine the mix of reactions on the night. A few dads quietly concentrating, some clearly out of their depth, others getting the hang of it quicker than expected. Probably a fair bit of trial and error.

That’s exactly how it should be.

Because the goal isn’t perfection. It’s just getting better than you were before. And doing so in a way that is accessible and low presure.

It Went Viral and I Hope It Comes Back

 

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Clips from the event ended up doing the rounds online, and people loved it. Not just because it’s a slightly funny visual — dads seriously focused on mannequin heads in a pub — but because it feels genuine.

There’s no big message being forced. It’s just a group of dads trying to improve at something that matters to their kids, and that’s something a lot of people can relate to straight away.

It’s also the sort of thing most of us would probably give a go. Not because anyone expects to walk out suddenly mastering complicated styles, but because it takes away that awkward starting point. Learning something like this is a lot easier when someone shows you properly, rather than guessing your way through it at home.

Even picking up one or two basics would make a difference. A ponytail that actually looks neat, a plait that holds together — small wins, but ones that matter more than you’d think.

The event itself has already been and gone, but it doesn’t feel like a one-off idea. If anything, it’s the kind of thing that could easily pop up again, whether in the same place or somewhere else entirely. They have already done one follow up so another may well come up.

And if it does, it’s well worth keeping an eye on.

Because a lot of modern fatherhood isn’t about big gestures or standout moments. It’s about showing up for the everyday stuff — even the bits you’re not naturally good at — and getting a little bit better at them over time.

When I asked the school in advance, they said no: term-time holidays aren’t authorised unless there are exceptional circumstances. Apparently, saving money and sanity doesn’t count. So the absence went down as unauthorised, and a few weeks later, the fine landed — £80 if paid within 21 days, £160 if left until 28. Two parents, two fines, because that’s how the rules work now under England’s national framework introduced in August 2024.

No Appeal, No Nonsense

The first surprise was learning there’s no formal appeal process. None.

You can’t fill in a form and plead your case like with a parking ticket. The only thing you can do is write to the headteacher or the local authority and ask for the notice to be withdrawn — but they’ll only do that if it was issued in error.

The Department for Education’s own guidance spells this out: no right of appeal, just the option to ask nicely if they’ve made a mistake.

Why The Fine Lands In The First Place

Since August 2024, schools in England are expected to consider a penalty notice when a child racks up 10 unauthorised sessions (that’s five full school days).

The headteacher decides whether an absence is authorised — and if it isn’t, the local authority can issue the fine. Each parent can get up to two fines per child in any three-year period. After that, it skips straight to prosecution.

If you want to challenge this, there are several steps to take.

Step One: Check The Paperwork

The first thing I did was check the basics — names, dates, the amount, the period of absence. Councils have to follow the national template now, but human error still happens. If any of that’s wrong, you’ve got grounds to ask for the notice to be withdrawn.

Then I checked the school’s attendance policy and the register codes. Every absence gets one of those little letters you see on reports — and they’re nationally standardised. If it’s coded as unauthorised, that’s what triggers the fine.

Step Two: Make Your Case (Politely)

Because there’s no official appeal, the next move is to make representations. That’s council-speak for writing to the school and explaining why you think they’ve got it wrong. Maybe the absence should’ve been authorised. Maybe there was a medical note. Maybe it was a genuine administrative error.

If you’ve got proof, attach it. The council can withdraw a notice if:

• It was issued to the wrong person
• It was issued outside the rules
• Or no offence was actually committed

That’s it. Feeling hard done by doesn’t count.

Step Three: Decide Whether To Pay

If the school and council stick to their guns, you’re left with two choices: pay within 21 days (£80) or within 28 days (£160). If you still don’t, the local authority must either withdraw the notice or prosecute you under section 444 of the Education Act 1996 for failing to ensure regular attendance.

Prosecution sounds dramatic, but it happens. The court can impose a bigger fine and costs — and “regular attendance” has been legally defined by the Supreme Court as meaning “in accordance with the school’s rules.” In other words, if the school said no, you’re on thin ice.

Step Four: Court — If You Really Push It

If it goes to court, there are only a few legal defences. You’d have to show that the absence was authorised, the child was ill or there was an unavoidable cause, or it was a day of religious observance. Beyond that, it’s down to the magistrates.

What I Actually Did

I gathered every bit of evidence I had — emails to the school, travel details, screenshots — and sent a polite, factual letter asking for the absence to be reconsidered. I copied in the local authority, because that’s who actually issues the fine.

They reviewed it and, in my case, stood by the original decision. So I paid within the 21-day window to stop it doubling. Annoying? Yes. But that’s the only real way to draw a line under it.

To be fair I was bang to rights, but I thought it was worth a try. It wasn’t.

My Advice to Other Parents

Challenging a school fine isn’t like arguing over a parking ticket. The system is designed to be straightforward and unforgiving — and, to be fair, consistent across the country.

In other words, if you know you are guilty, just pay the fine. You won’t win an appeal if you can’t prove the fine is unfair, you will just cause yourself stress, extra work, and potentially further costs.

Key things to remember:

1. Don’t ignore it. Those deadlines matter.
2. Don’t assume you can appeal. You can’t — only request withdrawal if it was issued wrongly.
3. Keep everything in writing. If it escalates, you’ll need a paper trail.
4. If you end up in court, get advice early. It’s not a formality — it’s a criminal offence under section 444.

So yes, you can question a fine. But unless there’s a clear error or you’ve got rock-solid proof that the absence should’ve been authorised, you’ll probably just end up paying it.

And maybe, next time, thinking twice before hitting “book” on that off-peak deal. Or at least factoring in the cost of the inevitable fine!

But the first time your child comes home casually dropping a word you absolutely did not teach them? That one can catch you completely off guard.

For a lot of dads, it goes something like this. You’re sitting at the dinner table or driving home from school and suddenly a perfectly innocent sentence includes a word that makes you choke on your tea.

“Where on earth did you hear that?”

The answer, nine times out of ten, is the same: school.

It’s one of those moments when you realise your child is now fully exposed to the outside world, with all the good and bad that comes with it.

And while it might feel alarming at first, it’s actually a very normal part of growing up.

Why Kids Pick Up Swearing So Quickly

Children are extremely good at picking up language. Much better than adults, in fact.

That’s partly because they’re constantly listening and copying the people around them. Language is how kids figure out the world, so anything that gets a reaction tends to stick.

Swear words tick all the boxes.

• They’re emotional.
• They’re memorable.
• And most importantly, they cause a reaction.

Even if a child hears the word just once, they often notice the tone and the response around it. If another kid says something and everyone laughs or gasps, that word suddenly becomes very interesting.

Schools are obviously full of different children from different homes, and some kids will have heard language that others haven’t. Once a few words start circulating around the playground, they spread quickly.

It’s not usually about being naughty. More often it’s curiosity and experimentation.

Kids are trying out new words to see what they mean and what effect they have.

The Playground Language Exchange

One thing most parents eventually realise is that schools are basically giant language laboratories.

Every playground has that one kid who seems to know words nobody else has heard yet. They pass them on to friends, who pass them on again, and suddenly the entire class is experimenting with a brand new piece of vocabulary.

Most of the time, the kids don’t even fully understand what they’re saying.

They just know it sounds grown-up or rebellious.

I remember hearing my own child confidently repeat a word they’d clearly picked up from somewhere. When I asked what they thought it meant, the answer was essentially a shrug followed by “I don’t know… it’s just a word.”

That’s very typical.

Swearing, at least in the early stages, is usually more about curiosity than defiance.

Why Kids Often Test It At Home

Once a child learns a new swear word, there’s a good chance it will eventually be tested out at home.

Parents are the safest audience for experimentation.

Kids are trying to figure out the rules of language, and that includes working out which words are acceptable and which ones cross a line.

Sometimes it slips out accidentally. Other times it’s a deliberate test.

You’ll see the look on their face when they say it. That tiny pause afterwards where they’re waiting to see how you react.

And that reaction matters more than you might think.

The Worst Thing You Can Do

It’s very tempting to react dramatically when you hear your child swear for the first time.

Shouting, overreacting, or turning it into a huge confrontation is understandable. After all, nobody wants their child wandering around the playground sounding like a drunken football fan.

But big reactions can sometimes backfire.

Remember that kids often repeat words precisely because they get attention. If a particular word causes an explosion at the dinner table, it instantly becomes more interesting.

That doesn’t mean you ignore it. But it does mean staying calm helps.

A steady response usually teaches the lesson far more effectively than a dramatic one.

Start With A Simple Explanation

One of the most useful things you can do is simply explain that some words are considered rude.

Children don’t automatically understand the social rules around language. They need those rules explained in clear, simple terms.

Something along the lines of:

“That word is something some adults say when they’re angry, but it’s not a word children should use.”

You don’t need to deliver a lecture about morality or punishment. Most of the time, a calm explanation is enough for younger kids.

They’re often surprised to learn that the word carries that kind of weight.

Help Them Understand Context

As children get older, the conversation can become a little more nuanced.

The truth is that swearing does exist in the adult world. Kids hear it in films, on television, in sports stadiums, and sometimes from grown-ups themselves.

Pretending it never exists usually doesn’t work.

Instead, it can help to explain that certain words are considered inappropriate in certain places.

School, for example, has rules about language because it needs to be a respectful environment for everyone.

This approach teaches something far more valuable than just “don’t say that word”.

It teaches social awareness.

Look At Your Own Language Too

This is the slightly uncomfortable part for many dads.

Kids are incredibly good at noticing what we say, not just what we tell them to say.

If we regularly shout colourful language at the television during a football match, it shouldn’t come as a huge surprise when those same words appear a few weeks later in the playground.

That doesn’t mean parents have to speak like Victorian schoolteachers all the time.

But it’s worth remembering that children absorb far more than we realise.

Sometimes the easiest way to shape their language is to quietly adjust our own.

What Schools Usually Do About It

Most schools deal with swearing in fairly predictable ways.

Teachers understand that children often repeat words without fully understanding them. The usual response is a reminder about school rules and, if it continues, a conversation about respectful language.

In more serious cases, schools may involve parents, particularly if the language is directed at other children or staff.

But the vast majority of playground swearing incidents are minor and short-lived.

Kids experiment with words, realise they get into trouble for them, and eventually move on.

A Phase Most Kids Grow Out Of

For many families, the swearing phase turns out to be brief.

Once children understand that certain words aren’t acceptable at school or at home, they usually drop them pretty quickly.

The novelty wears off.

Something else becomes the new playground trend instead.

Looking back, most dads end up realising that the first swear word wasn’t a sign of terrible behaviour or bad influences. It was simply another step in their child figuring out language, boundaries, and the social rules of the world around them.

And if you handle it calmly, with a bit of explanation and a bit of patience, it usually becomes just another funny parenting memory.

One day you’ll probably even laugh about it.

Preferably not while your child is within earshot.

It’s a horrible question because it doesn’t arrive politely. It turns up when you’re already tired, already stressed, and already trying to hold the line. And to be fair, kids do need a line. Boundaries are part of feeling safe. But there’s a difference between being firm and being frightening. There’s a difference between teaching respect and teaching a child to shrink.

The problem is, in real life, discipline rarely looks like a neat parenting diagram. It looks like the third argument of the day about putting shoes on. It looks like you snapping because someone’s spilled something again and you’re still thinking about work. It looks like you insisting on manners because you don’t want to raise a tiny tyrant, and then wondering if you’ve become the tyrant instead.

What “Strict” Usually Means In A Family Home

Most dads don’t set out to be harsh. The strictness creeps in through the cracks: routines, pressure, time, fear of “letting things slide”. Sometimes it’s your own upbringing whispering in your ear. Sometimes it’s the panic that if you don’t handle this now, you’ll be dealing with something bigger later.

A useful way to think about it is the difference between control and guidance. The American Psychological Association describes authoritative parenting as nurturing and supportive while still setting firm limits. By contrast, authoritarian parenting is more about enforcing rules with less warmth and responsiveness. Children tend to do better with the first one, because they’re learning boundaries while still feeling secure and understood.

That’s the ideal, anyway. The real challenge is that, as a dad, you can be aiming for “firm but fair” and still land on “sharp and scary” when you’re running on fumes.

It’s Not Just About Behaviour

Discipline isn’t only about getting a child to do what you’ve asked. It’s also about what they learn about themselves while you’re doing it.

If the main lesson is “Dad is unpredictable when he’s angry”, that’s not discipline, that’s fear management.

If the main lesson is “I’m always in trouble”, that doesn’t build character. It chips away at confidence.

That’s why so much good guidance circles back to praise, calm consequences, and consistency. The NHS advice on dealing with behaviour problems talks about rewarding good behaviour with attention and specific praise, and being careful not to slip into bribery. It’s not because everyone’s trying to turn parenting into a gold-star chart. It’s because kids repeat what gets noticed, and they need to know you see them doing things right too.

And it’s why some NHS materials explicitly warn that blaming, shaming, or punishing can leave children feeling worse about themselves, and may even make behaviour harder to manage.

So if you’re worrying you might be too strict, you’re not overthinking it. You’re paying attention to the bigger picture: discipline is meant to teach, not crush.

Signs You Might Be Crossing The Line

This isn’t a checklist to beat yourself up with. It’s more like a few “hmm” moments to watch for.

• Your child is compliant, but not confident – If they do what you say but seem anxious, overly eager to please, or scared of making mistakes, it can be a sign the discipline feels heavy rather than helpful.
• They don’t tell you things – Kids hide stuff for loads of reasons, but if they’re avoiding you when they’ve messed up, it may be because consequences feel unbearable or unpredictable.
• You correct far more than you connect – If most interactions are instructions, warnings, and corrections, the relationship starts to feel like a workplace performance review. Nobody thrives under that.
• You’re enforcing rules you don’t really believe in – Sometimes you’re not defending a value, you’re defending your pride because you’ve already said it out loud.
• You’re using consequences that don’t teach anything – If the consequence is mainly there to make them feel bad, it’s not really discipline, it’s just punishment dressed up as “learning”.

What “Firm But Not Crushing” Looks Like

Keep rules simple and consistent

A lot of problems come from having too many rules, too often, delivered too loudly. Some NHS guidance suggests keeping boundaries simple and being consistent about them. If you’ve got 27 rules, you’ll be enforcing them 27 times, and everyone will hate each other.

Swap lectures for consequences that make sense

The goal isn’t a long speech that ends with “do you understand me”. The goal is a clear, calm consequence that connects to the behaviour. Immediate and reasonable consequences are more likely to land.

Talk less when you’re angry

This sounds obvious, but it’s the difference between discipline and damage. When you’re angry, your brain is not in “teach a lesson” mode. It’s in “win the argument” mode. Kids don’t learn well in that atmosphere, and neither do we.

Praise the behaviour you want to see

This isn’t about pretending they’re an angel. It’s about noticing progress. The NHS explicitly recommends specific praise for good behaviour. A kid who feels seen for the good stuff is less likely to build an identity around being “the naughty one”.

Give them some control without giving up control

One of the best confidence builders is letting kids make small choices inside a boundary you’ve set. The boundary stays, but they get to feel capable rather than cornered. UNICEF’s positive discipline guidance repeatedly returns to clear expectations, calm consequences, and positive attention.

The Repair Matters More Than The Perfect Reaction

Here’s the honest truth: you will get it wrong sometimes. You’ll be strict when you didn’t need to be. You’ll be harsh when you meant to be firm. You’ll hear your own voice come out sharper than you intended and you’ll see their face change.

The difference-maker isn’t that a good dad never slips. It’s what happens next.

Repair can be as simple as: I didn’t handle that well. I was stressed and I spoke too sharply. The rule still stands, but I should have said it better.

That sentence does two things at once. It keeps the boundary and it protects the relationship. It also teaches something far more valuable than obedience: how to own your behaviour and come back from it.

A kid who sees you repair learns that mistakes don’t equal shame. They learn that conflict doesn’t mean love disappears. That is confidence. Not the loud, showy kind. The quiet kind that lasts.

So Where Does That Leave Us?

If you’re asking “am I too strict?”, you’re already doing something important: you’re checking whether your discipline is helping your child grow, or simply making life easier in the moment.

Discipline that builds confidence says: I’m in charge, you’re safe, and I believe you can do better.

Discipline that kills confidence says: I’m in charge, and you should be worried about me.

Most of us are trying for the first one. The trick is noticing when stress pushes us toward the second, and pulling it back before it becomes the household atmosphere.

You don’t need to be soft. You don’t need to be stern. You need to be steady.

And on the days you aren’t steady, you can be honest, repair it, and try again tomorrow.

“It’s just something we say,” he told me.

As far as I can tell, “six seven” started life as a lyric in a US rap track called Doot Doot (6 7) by an artist named Skrilla. From there, it made the jump to TikTok and Reels, where it became a meme: people shouting “six seven!” while doing a kind of daft hand gesture — palms up, see-sawing like they’re weighing invisible fruit. There’s no real message behind it. It’s just… a thing.

And now, it’s escaped into the real world — classrooms, playgrounds, and, apparently, my living room.

What’s The Point Of It?

None whatsoever. That’s the beauty of it. Kids have always loved nonsense. If it makes adults frown and teachers sigh, even better.

The whole point of “six seven” seems to be that there isn’t a point. Someone says it, someone else repeats it, everyone laughs, and before you know it, there’s a small army of children yelling “six seven!” on the school run. It’s the perfect playground currency — completely random, totally silly, and 100% incomprehensible to grown-ups.

It’s also the kind of thing that spreads faster than head lice. Social media gives this stuff rocket fuel. What starts as a joke on TikTok ends up being parroted by kids who are far too young to even have phones.

From Rap Track To Year 1 Class

The phrase’s rise has been weirdly fast, even by internet standards. Skrilla’s track wasn’t exactly a hit — it just contained a catchy line that people started quoting. Then came the edits: TikTokers clipped the “six seven” lyric over basketball highlights, reaction videos and comedy skits. The rhythm made it easy to shout. The absurdity made it funny.

Before long, it wasn’t about the song at all — it was about the noise. Teenagers started using it as a punchline. Influencers joined in. Then the younger crowd copied them, just like they do with dances and catchphrases. Somewhere along the way, the actual meaning disappeared completely, and “six seven” became a kind of code for “I’m in on the joke.”

By the time it reached UK schools, it had lost all connection to the music — it was just a phrase to shout for fun. Teachers started hearing it whenever someone mentioned page 67. Parents started hearing it at home. And now, even the kids who’ve never heard the song are shouting it anyway.

It’s a real “if you know you know” situation. Except hardly anybody really knows, but they say it anyway.

So Why Are They All Saying It?

Because that’s what kids do. They copy, they join in, and they love anything that feels like an in-joke. It’s the same reason we all used to shout “bogies!” in public thanks to Dick and Dom in Da Bungalow. Or why every playground once rang out with “Why are you running?” and “It’s Wednesday, my dudes.”

Most of them don’t know or care where it came from — it’s just fun to say. “Six seven” is nonsense with rhythm. It sounds like something. It feels like it means something. And the fact that adults don’t get it makes it even better.

Should We Be Worried?

Not really. It’s harmless enough. I mean I wouldn’t show them the music video but there’s no secret meaning to the phrase the kids are saying, no dodgy undertone, no worrying subtext — just an empty meme that’s accidentally become the national catchphrase for under-tens.

That said, some schools are reportedly getting fed up with the interruptions. When half a class bursts into “six seven!” every time a page number comes up, the novelty wears off pretty quickly.

If your child’s teacher has banned it, it’s probably not worth dying on that hill. But if your kid just blurts it out at home, it’s no worse than them quoting a Peppa Pig episode on loop.

What Dads Can Do About It

Nothing. Don’t fight it. This is a battle you can’t win. Just let it run its course.

This whole “six seven” business is basically a reminder of how strange, funny, and unstoppable kid culture can be. We might not understand it — or want to — but it’s their world. And they’re living it one viral catchphrase at a time.

So I’m choosing to laugh. Let them have their weird little meme. We had ours too — just swap TikTok for Top of the Pops and Fortnite dances for the Macarena.

Still, I reserve the right to sigh dramatically every time he says it in the supermarket.

Six seven indeed.

If you’ve quietly nodded along for months while secretly wondering what on earth a “shiny Charizard EX” is, this is for you. Here’s a simple, dad-friendly guide that won’t overwhelm you, won’t demand you memorise 1,000 fictional animals, and should at least help you keep up with your own children.

Just think of this as your crash course in Pokémon-ese. No revision required. No detention for asking silly questions.

What Pokémon Actually Is

At its core, Pokémon is a huge fictional world where strange creatures exist, kids go on adventures, and nobody seems remotely concerned about letting ten-year-olds roam the wilderness unsupervised. It started as a video game series in the 1990s and has since grown into an empire including TV shows, movies, trading cards, toys and more merch than a theme park gift shop.

Kids love it because the creatures are cute, cool or bizarre; there’s loads to collect; and there’s always something new coming out. You don’t need the full history lesson here. Just think of Pokémon as the entertainment equivalent of football: it’s always going on somewhere, it never really ends, and your child will always know more about it than you do.

The Many Ways Kids Play Pokémon

Here’s where most dads get lost. Pokémon isn’t one thing — it’s several overlapping hobbies:

• Video games on Nintendo consoles, where you catch Pokémon, train them and battle other characters.
• The trading card game, which is basically playground stock exchange with pictures.
• The animated series, which your kids may binge without blinking (think Top Trumps).
• The toys, plushies and endless paraphernalia.

Most children jump between these without hesitation. You don’t need to understand every version. Just know that whichever one your kids like is, according to them, the definitive and only correct way to enjoy Pokémon.

So… What Are Pokémon Exactly?

Pokémon are fictional creatures that kids collect, battle with, talk about and occasionally scream about when they finally get the one they want. They come in many shapes, sizes and personality types. Some look like animals. Some look like plants. Some look like electrical appliances. One is literally a set of car keys – Google ‘Klefki’.

They each belong to a “type” — think elements. The basic ones you might actually hear about are:

• Fire
• Water
• Grass
• Electric
• Psychic
• Fighting
• Dragon

There are more, but honestly, nobody expects you to recite them. Your kids already can, because children’s brains are like velcro for obscure facts.

The Characters You Will Definitely Hear About

You don’t need to memorise hundreds of creatures. Get familiar with these and you can fake competence with minimal effort.

• Pikachu – Yellow, mouse-like, electricity-powered, franchise mascot. If Pokémon had a lead singer, this is it.
• Charizard – Big orange dragon-thing. Very popular. Often the star of any card collection.
• Bulbasaur, Charmander, Squirtle – The original trio of starter Pokémon. Kids love them because they’re iconic, cute and easy to recognise.
• Eevee – A fluffy fox-like Pokémon that can evolve into lots of different forms. Very merch-friendly.
• Mewtwo – A serious-looking psychic powerhouse who features in the earliest films.
• Snorlax – Massive, round, mostly asleep. May also describe some dads after a Sunday roast.

Just recognising these is enough to avoid looking completely lost.

What On Earth Is Evolution?

This trips up a lot of parents because it’s nothing like the evolution you learned in school. In Pokémon, the characters can “evolve”, and “evolving” just means the creature transforms into a bigger, cooler or more dramatic version of itself. It usually happens when they level up or use a special item.

It’s a bit like when your son or daughter goes from wobbling along on a balance bike to rocketing around the park on a pedal bike. Same child, new powers unlocked.

Understanding The Pokémon Story (So Far As One Exists)

One of the first things that throws parents off is the assumption that Pokémon has a big, complicated storyline running underneath everything. It doesn’t. Not in the grand, cinematic-universe way you might be expecting. Instead, it’s more like a series of self-contained adventures that all follow a familiar pattern.

In the games, you play a young trainer travelling through a region, catching creatures, challenging gym leaders and eventually taking on the resident bad guys. Every game uses the same formula, just with new characters, new locations and a fresh set of problems to sort out. There are little nods and returning faces from previous generations, but nothing you need a doctorate in Pokémon Lore to follow.

The TV show works much the same way. For years it followed Ash Ketchum as he trekked across different regions doing the classic routine of catching Pokémon, battling gym leaders and dealing with whatever villainous team was trying to cause trouble that week. Ash stays the same age for about twenty years, which tells you how seriously the show takes the timeline. More recently, the series introduced new main characters, but the structure hasn’t changed much.

The films are mostly one-off adventures built around extra-powerful Legendary Pokémon. They rarely affect the series or the games in any meaningful way.

The helpful takeaway for dads is this: you don’t need to memorise a giant, never-ending storyline to talk to your kids about Pokémon. Each adventure is its own thing, and the overall world operates on simple, repeatable rules. Once you know that basic rhythm, the rest is far less mysterious.

A Quick Look At The Card Craze

Ah, the cards. Possibly the most baffling part for parents.

The Pokémon Trading Card Game has its own rules, but most children aren’t actually playing it. They’re collecting cards, organising them, comparing them, swapping them and occasionally guarding them with the seriousness usually reserved for heirlooms.

The only things you really need to know:

• Shiny or rare-looking cards are the exciting ones.
  • Condition matters, which explains the sudden interest in plastic sleeves.
  • Some cards can be worth real money, but do not assume every card is secretly funding their university degree.

Most playground discussions around cards involve value, rarity and who managed to get something better than their friend.

What Matters Most To Your Kids

Pokémon isn’t just creatures and battles.

For a lot of kids, it’s:

• A way to bond with friends
• A safe hobby to get excited about
• A world they understand better than adults
• Something they can teach you
• A chance to collect and organise things

Showing even a small amount of interest goes a long way. You don’t have to master every detail. Just ask questions, listen and show a bit of curiosity.

And yes, occasionally admire the fifteenth drawing of Pikachu they’ve brought home.

Stepping Into Their World

The beauty of Pokémon is that it’s built for kids but easy enough for adults to dip into. And a lot of adults are obsessed with it as well.

You can learn the basics in an afternoon, surprise them by recognising a couple of creatures, and instantly become a more impressive-looking dad in their eyes.

You never know — you might even find yourself enjoying it. Or at the very least, successfully identifying Pikachu on sight, which earns you respectable dad points in its own right.

If you’ve been feeling clueless, that’s perfectly normal. But now you’re slightly less clueless. And in the world of Pokémon parenting, that’s a victory.

That, my friends, is the Dad Tax. It’s not written into any official legislation, but it’s a law all the same. A sacred rule passed from one generation of fathers to the next. If you buy it, open it, or serve it, you’re entitled to a small, symbolic cut.

What Exactly Is The Dad Tax?

The Dad Tax is that harmless little nibble we take from our kids’ food, justified entirely by the fact that we’re the ones who made it possible in the first place. Open a bag of sweets? One sweet goes to the taxman. Hand over a cone of chips? That’s subject to a light deduction.

It’s been around for decades — long before the internet gave it a name — but the phrase “Dad Tax” really took off online. Reddit threads, Twitter memes, TikTok videos: dads all over the world proudly admitting to taking “payment in snacks.” The idea is simple — you’ve done the labour, therefore you deserve a bite. It’s the oldest form of workplace compensation there is.

Some dads take it further than others. There’s the “flat-rate” dads who always grab one crisp and move on, and then there are the “percentage” dads who eyeball the plate and claim a fair share based on effort invested. I once knew a dad who insisted his tax rate went up on weekends and bank holidays. Economically sound, morally dubious.

The Funny Thing About Fairness

The beauty of the Dad Tax is that kids immediately know it’s unfair — and they will tell you so. With righteous fury, they’ll cry: “That’s MINE!” as if you’ve just repossessed their lunch. I’ve had full-scale negotiations break out over a single chip. One of my kids even tried to set up a “No Dad Tax” clause on Halloween night. It didn’t pass the house vote.

Of course, we all play along. I’ll feign deep regret, hand back the pilfered crisp, and then eat another one just to prove the system works. They’ll laugh, roll their eyes, and call me predictable — but the next time we share a bag of popcorn, they’ll watch me like hawks. It’s part of the fun.

And it is funny, because every parent knows that most of our lives revolve around our children’s food anyway. We spend hours buying, prepping, cooking, and cleaning up after meals we barely get to eat. The Dad Tax is the one tiny moment of balance in that endless cycle of service. A symbolic act of rebellion in a world of snack-size rice cakes and hidden vegetables.

The Dad Tax Rules

What’s brilliant is that the Dad Tax isn’t just a UK thing. Dads in the US, Canada, and Australia all claim it too. Search “Dad Tax” online and you’ll find photos of half-eaten doughnuts, triumphant dads holding solitary chips, and kids glaring in silent outrage. There are even unofficial “Dad Tax Rules” circulating online, setting out when and how it may be applied.

Among the best are:

• The Dad Tax applies whenever the dad has paid for, cooked, or delivered the food in question.
• The tax must be reasonable — one or two bites, not half the meal.
• The tax cannot be charged on broccoli, unless dad is desperate.

Those rules might not hold up in court, but they certainly hold up at the dinner table.

A Rite Of Passage

I used to think the Dad Tax was just a bit of fun. But then I caught myself applying it automatically — the same way my dad did when I was a kid. Back then, I thought it was daylight robbery. I’d glare at him as he pinched a chip from my plate, muttering something about “admin fees.”

Now I realise he wasn’t being cheeky for the sake of it — or at least, not only that. It was a running joke, a shared moment that somehow made meals more memorable. It was his way of being present, of joining in. I didn’t know it at the time, but he was teaching me about sharing, humour, and family rhythm.

And now here I am, doing exactly the same thing on instinct — enforcing a Dad Tax of my own, right down to the mock-serious tone and inevitable smirk. Parenting is funny like that. You spend half your life trying not to turn into your parents, and the other half accidentally doing exactly what they did.

It Teaches Kids More Than You Think

The Dad Tax, silly as it is, does teach kids a few useful lessons — not about economics (though you could make a case for that), but about generosity, humour, and the give-and-take of family life.

They learn that sharing doesn’t always have to be serious, that laughter can take the sting out of being short-changed, and that sometimes it’s okay to let someone else have a tiny win. They also learn, crucially, that dads can be funny — intentionally, even — and that we don’t take ourselves too seriously.

I’ve noticed that when I claim my little “tax,” the kids almost always laugh first, complain second, and then try to catch me out next time. It’s a small ritual that keeps us connected. A game that turns snack time into something more than just calories and crumbs.

So yes — the Dad Tax might be unfair. It might even be outrageous, if you ask my youngest. But it’s also part of the unspoken code of fatherhood: a blend of humour, tradition, and mild hypocrisy that somehow makes family life richer.

Some dads pass down wisdom. Some pass down football loyalties. Me? I’m passing down the right to swipe a chip in good faith.

Because one day, when my kids have little ones of their own, they’ll find themselves reaching for a crisp, hearing the words “Hey, that’s mine!”, and smiling as they realise the Dad Tax has just been inherited.