The history of fatherhood is, too often, a history of absence.

Being a dad was something I always aspired to do well, but what that meant in practice was never quite clear. After my son was born, I did what most fathers do: I kept working. Ten-hour days followed by a 50-minute train ride home meant I’d usually arrive just in time to kiss his sleeping forehead and switch off the hallway light. I was a presence, but not present.

Working from home has enabled a generation of men to be better fathers.Credit: Getty Images

It wasn’t for lack of intention. I wanted to be more involved, but the structure and expectations of work often rendered that wish mostly symbolic. Even now, in an era supposedly shaped by gender equity, notions of father-as-provider linger. Workplaces still reward the long-stayer, the late-finisher. Duck out for daycare pick-up? You’ll get a smile that says, must be nice. But stay late? You’re a team player.

That changed, for a time, when the pandemic hit.

Soon after lockdowns began, my daughter was born and for the first three years of her life, she lived in a world where both parents were always within earshot. This was a big upgrade in proximity from my oldest, who spent his early years wandering the sticky astroturf of a CBD daycare, one he despised with a consistency I quite admired. My wife worked part-time. I worked full-time. We followed the script.

Then everything stopped.........

© The Sydney Morning Herald