I watched my son wrestling with his four-year-old on the living room carpet last weekend. There was shrieking, giggling, and at one point, a stuffed elephant got launched across the room. My daughter-in-law looked over at me and rolled her eyes with a smile. “Boys,” she said.
But here’s the thing. What looked like chaos was actually something far more important. Those ten minutes of roughhousing were doing more for my grandson’s confidence than a hundred “good job” stickers ever could. And the research backs this up in ways that might surprise you.
Why father-child play is different
Mothers and fathers tend to play differently with their children. This isn’t a value judgment. It’s simply an observation that decades of research has confirmed. Mothers often engage in more nurturing, verbal, and structured play. Fathers, on the other hand, tend toward physical, unpredictable, and boundary-pushing interactions.
Think about it. When was the last time you saw a mother toss a toddler in the air repeatedly while the child screamed “Again! Again!”? It happens, sure. But fathers seem drawn to this kind of play like moths to a flame.
As noted by researchers at the Administration for Children and Families, father involvement during early childhood has unique effects on children’s social and emotional development that are distinct from mother involvement. The way dads interact with their young children creates a particular kind of learning environment that children simply don’t get elsewhere.
This physical, slightly unpredictable style of play teaches children something crucial. The world can be exciting and a little scary, and you can handle it.
The confidence connection
So why does this matter so much for confidence? Let me break it down.
When a father engages in rough-and-tumble play with a young child, he’s creating a safe space for the child to experience mild stress and excitement. The child gets thrown in the air but caught safely. They get chased but never truly in danger. They wrestle and lose but learn that losing isn’t the end of the world.
Each of these micro-experiences builds what psychologists call “stress inoculation.” The child learns, at a deep neurological level, that they can handle uncertainty. They can face something scary and come out the other side laughing.
Dr. Lawrence Cohen, author of “Playful Parenting,” has noted that this kind of play helps children develop what he calls a “full cup” of confidence and connection. When children feel securely attached through play, they venture out into the world with more courage.
I’ve mentioned this before, but my own father wasn’t particularly demonstrative with his affection. Yet some of my strongest memories are of him chasing me around the garden, pretending to be a monster. Those moments taught me that I could be scared and still be okay. That lesson has served me well for sixty-odd years.
The magic window of ages 2 to 6
Why these specific ages? What makes the period between two and six so critical?
This is when children are developing what psychologists call their “internal working model” of relationships and their place in the world. Their brains are incredibly plastic, soaking up experiences and using them to build the neural pathways that will shape their personalities for life.
During these years, children are also developing their sense of autonomy and initiative. They’re learning to do things for themselves, to take risks, to fail and try again. A father who engages in active, physical play during this window is essentially giving his child a master class in resilience.
Research published in the journal Developmental Psychology has shown that the quality of father-child play during early childhood predicts children’s social competence and emotional regulation years later. The effects don’t fade. They compound.
Think of it like compound interest for the soul. Those silly games at age three are still paying dividends at age thirty.
What good father-child play looks like
Now, I want to be clear about something. This isn’t about being the “fun dad” who never sets limits. Good father-child play actually involves quite a bit of structure, even when it looks chaotic from the outside.
The best play interactions involve a few key elements. First, there’s attunement. The father is paying attention to the child’s cues, noticing when they’re getting overstimulated or scared, and adjusting accordingly.
Second, there’s challenge. The father pushes the child slightly beyond their comfort zone, but not so far that they become overwhelmed. Third, there’s repair. When things go wrong, when someone gets hurt or upset, the father helps the child regulate their emotions and return to a calm state.
This dance of excitement and regulation teaches children that big feelings are manageable. They learn that they can get wound up and then calm down. They learn that someone is there to help them when things get too intense.
These lessons become internalized over time. The child who learns to regulate with dad’s help eventually learns to regulate on their own.
What if dad isn’t in the picture?
I know some readers might be feeling a pang of worry right now. What if there’s no father present? What if dad works long hours and rarely has time to play? What if dad just isn’t the rough-and-tumble type?
Take a breath. Children are resilient, and there are many paths to confidence.
The key elements of father-child play can be provided by other caring adults. Grandfathers, uncles, family friends, or mothers who enjoy physical play can all fill this role. What matters is that the child has access to this kind of interaction with someone who loves them.
And for fathers who aren’t naturally inclined toward physical play, there are other ways to engage. Building blocks together and knocking them down. Playing chase in the backyard. Even animated storytelling with funny voices and dramatic gestures can provide some of the same benefits.
The goal isn’t to force yourself into a mold that doesn’t fit. The goal is to be present, engaged, and willing to be a little silly with your child.
Small moments matter most
Here’s something that might take the pressure off. You don’t need hours of dedicated play time to make a difference. Research suggests that the quality of interaction matters far more than the quantity.
Ten minutes of fully engaged, phone-free play can be more valuable than an hour of distracted supervision. A quick wrestling match before dinner. A chase around the house before bath time. A silly dance in the kitchen while waiting for the pasta to boil.
These small moments add up. They weave together into a tapestry of connection that wraps around your child like a warm blanket. Years later, they might not remember the specific games. But they’ll remember the feeling of being delighted in, of being worth your time and attention.
My grandchildren won’t remember that I pretended to be a dinosaur last Tuesday. But somewhere deep in their developing brains, a little more confidence is taking root. A little more belief that the world is a place where they can take risks and be caught when they fall.
The long game of fatherhood
Parenting is a long game. The results of our efforts often don’t show up for years, sometimes decades. This can make it hard to stay motivated, especially when you’re tired and the kids are demanding and there are a hundred other things competing for your attention.
But here’s what I’ve learned in my years as a father and now a grandfather. The investment you make in those early years pays off in ways you can’t imagine. The confident teenager who stands up to peer pressure. The young adult who takes a chance on a new career. The parent who plays joyfully with their own children someday.
All of it traces back, at least in part, to those moments of connection in early childhood. To the father who got down on the floor and played. Who chased and tickled and tossed and caught. Who showed his child, through action rather than words, that they were worth his time and energy.
So the next time you’re tempted to scroll through your phone while your preschooler plays alone, consider this. Those few minutes of engaged play might be the most important thing you do all day. Not for you, but for the confident adult your child is slowly becoming.
What games did your father play with you that you still remember? And what are you passing on to your own children?
