I always thought unconditional love had its own place in the gift shop of parenthood. You could find them beside coffee mugs that read, “The years are short but the days are long.” Tucked behind those are keychains that proclaim, “you’re gonna miss this!” They’re all wedged between postcards from the playground, the splash pad, or my family’s (somewhat surprising) toddler haven, Costco.
I too, perhaps concededly, had it imprinted in my brain that we, the parents, were unconditional lovers. But I know better now. I have eaten the samples at the altar of wholesale and seen the light. I realized it is in fact the kids who are enlightened.
My daughter, Louie, is two and a half. It’s an age that feels as if it’s taken two and a half years off my life, but also gives me an overwhelming bounty of rewarding moments that will sustain me for that entire lifetime.
This is in no small part due to the half bit of two and a half. Louie crested that development curve as if she was a F1 driver in their prime and accelerated onto the straight of boundary pushing and “no’s.” Additionly, this has been the greatest period of change in her young life. My wife and I welcomed our second daughter a few weeks shy of Louie’s second birthday.
I felt like, at least in our family, supporting a very pregnant partner and a newly postpartum one with a toddler had the same M.O.: adventures, out of the house, with dad.
Louie was often superb: a great hang to her dad, a great big sis, kind to her mom. Yes, some boundaries were tested and we had some tête-à-têtes. But, that first bit of my parental leave was marked by an incredible introduction to our new life as a family of four. I think partly between having to share mom and dad while simultaneously experiencing her second movement around the sun, we then started to face some behavioral challenges with Louie.
She learned how to weaponize her newfound skills in the potty training department, using meltdowns as an opportunity to open the floodgates (if you will). She got a little, let’s say, hands on with her love of her new sister. The “no’s” stacked up in equal measure.
I will admit, despite feeling like I had that roster of adventures perfectly crafted and feeling grateful for my newfound freedom on leave to focus solely on my family, there were a couple times where I couldn’t fall asleep.I would lay awake, wondering how I was gonna do another day of this. Year of this??? Was I gonna get a couple “yesses” from Louie? Maybe just one less meltdown?
Each morning, a completely different version of Louie emerged from her crib.And I still felt like I was lucky to get to do this. I wouldn’t say I was thriving, but happily surviving. At some point soon after, that two year old, who seemed only to push my buttons, looked me dead in the eyes and told me that she loved me. I felt a relief unlike anything I have ever felt before. It was as if the main character in my life realized this is a coming-of-age-comedy and not a psychological thriller.
I always thought unconditional love, too, was a one-way street, parents steadfast in a streetcar track. I’ve found it to be more of a game of bumper cars. You zoom and spin and swerve, smile on your face for most of it despite the blurs of movement whisking all around you. And then you inevitably crash into each other and maybe have to do some repairs. But it’s that moment that brings you closer together. It’s what the game was about all along.
And when you lean into that, even in the hardest moments, I’m pleased to report that the adventures continue. In fact, they get even sweeter and you find yourself closer than ever. All those behavioral changes? They lead to crazy cool growth. It always you to bond in ways that you had only dreamt of before and help you to find unqiue ways to share something you love with them.
This was the summer Louie discovered soccer thanks to the 2026 World Cup, and it brought us even closer together.. Some of our adventures included trips to watch the games. She taught me to add, “and then they hug” to my breakdown of what happens after a goal is scored. Already a stickler for simulation, she proudly stated, “I’m playing soccer!” after we found her diving and flopping around our house.
When it comes to the actual games on the field, I’m an England supporter, meaning the men’s side of my favourite team has not delivered a championship since before the moon landing. Yet, Louie and I wore jerseys every game until their predictable semi-final demise.
With it being England, there is an inevitability of Oasis. Wonderwall, specifically. Looking back on it now. It feels fitting. Because, after all, children’s wonder is what gets us over the wall of toddlerhood. And they’re going to be the ones who save us with their unconditional lov
