As we’ve said before, Winston Churchill experienced first-hand what an absentee father looks like and swore never to become one. He was constantly chasing his father, hoping for affection, attention, even interest from the man he idealized and idolized. 

He never got it. 

With his own children, Josh Ireland writes in Churchill and Son, “Winston would invite his children into his bedroom and read aloud to them for an hour or so, make them late for bed, and himself late for dinner. He might even help them with their essays.” While this was wonderful and beautiful, it was not sufficient. As Ireland writes, “no matter how fond Winston was of his children, he rarely spent anything other than very short bursts of time with them.” Churchill was fun and attentive…but then immediately turned back to other matters, where he spent the bulk of his time throughout his adult life. Certainly this was better than his father’s outright neglect, but it still perpetuated the same intergenerational trauma—creating needy children who felt the need to chase their father, who feared being frozen out or forgotten. 

We have to make time for our kids. But holidays and birthdays are not enough. We have to make time consistently. We have to do it in concentrated blocks. Our kids are not diversions. They are not things we can turn on and off. They require—and they deserve—our full focus. They deserve extended periods of time. They deserve to feel like a priority. They deserve the security of paternity.

As we’ve said before, Winston Churchill experienced first-hand what an absentee father looks like and swore never to become one. He was constantly chasing his father, hoping for affection, attention, even interest from the man he idealized and idolized.

He never got it.

With his own children, Josh Ireland writes in Churchill and Son, “Winston would invite his children into his bedroom and read aloud to them for an hour or so, make them late for bed, and himself late for dinner. He might even help them with their essays.” While this was wonderful and beautiful, it was not sufficient. As Ireland writes, “no matter how fond Winston was of his children, he rarely spent anything other than very short bursts of time with them.” Churchill was fun and attentive…but then immediately turned back to other matters, where he spent the bulk of his time throughout his adult life. Certainly this was better than his father’s outright neglect, but it still perpetuated the same intergenerational trauma—creating needy children who felt the need to chase their father, who feared being frozen out or forgotten.

We have to make time for our kids. But holidays and birthdays are not enough. We have to make time consistently. We have to do it in concentrated blocks. Our kids are not diversions. They are not things we can turn on and off. They require—and they deserve—our full focus. They deserve extended periods of time. They deserve to feel like a priority. They deserve the security of paternity.

Doing better than our parents is a low bar. We have to give our kids not just what we lacked, but what they need. What they deserve.

Doing better than our parents is a low bar. We have to give our kids not just what we lacked, but what they need. What they deserve.