My Kid Was Rude. My Brain Wrote a Press Release.

February 17, 2026 – The deeper I get into fatherhood research and coaching, the more I’ve realized the best insights don’t live in a “dad-only” corner. So I’ve started teaming up with some of the sharpest motherhood experts I know, and Becky Jennings of ResponseABLE Parenting is at the top of that list. on February 22 we’re hosting a Valentines’ish workshop called From Tense to Together: a 90-minute reset designed to turn stressful parenting moments into deeper partnership. We’ll map your biggest triggers (yours and your partner’s), uncover what’s underneath them, and practice what it looks like to feel supported when things get hot. Come join us! Now, back to the story…

A parent pulled me aside recently and told me something I didn’t want to hear:
One of my sons had been extremely rude to her.

This wasn’t the first comment we’d received from a parent either. It was a pattern.

And my first response wasn’t curiosity.

It was spin.

My brain started assembling evidence at warp speed: He was tired. He didn’t mean it like that. That adult is sensitive. The culture is different here. I’m trying to develop boys that don’t conform and think for themselves. The list went on.

The thing was, that when I reflected, I realized that I wasn’t defending my kid’s behavior. I was defending my identity.

Because when someone says, “Your child is being rude,” what I tend to hear (rightly or wrongly) is:
“You’re failing as a father.”

That’s the moment my defensiveness went full politics, with all facts suddenly up for debate. My inner PR team rushed to control the narrative even before I understood what was happening.

The thing about patterns is they invite responsibility.

I needed to separate two things that were tangled together:

• Defensiveness for my child (love)

• Defensiveness for myself as a father (ego)

That second one is sneakier than it looks.

Parenting has a way of making us feel both desperately important and suddenly exposed.

Because when it’s a pattern, it’s bigger than the moment. It’s a trend-line and it triggers all those secret parenting fears we keep tucked away.

One of the most useful reflections I’ve heard from an Ambitious Dad came from Jason Holzer:

“My wife and I try to pause and ask, ‘Was that them… or us?’ If it’s us, maybe I need a timeout. Maybe I need therapy. But it always starts with reflection.”

When I replayed the “rude to an adult” feedback, it immediately got me worrying… Am I the origin of this?

Is it something in how I’m raising him? Is it his mother? (Yes, my brain tried to blame her for a second). As with most behavioral patterns though, it’s probably a little bit of everything.

One Ambitious Dad I interviewed, Leo Martellotto, shared an experience that popped into my head as soon as my mind started down the shame cycle. He explained that his “youngest was getting very aggressive and the child psychologist asked to start with the parents. She wanted to evaluate us,” he said.

This is where it can start to get really uncomfortable. Because what if the feedback isn’t only about my kid’s behavior?

What if it’s also about my leadership?

This is where I need to give huge props to my wife. She approached the situation like a curious kid.

Not like someone trying to win the argument in her head. Not like a parent trying to prove we’re fine, and “they are overreacting.”

A curious kid asks: What’s going on here? What am I missing? Who knows more than me?

So she called a child psychologist.

She got interesting insights. Some of them negated worries we were carrying. Some of them gave us new ways to see the pattern and new ideas for how to support change without turning it into a shame spiral.

Ironically, even that made me defensive.

The moment she told me she’d contacted a psychologist, I felt a fresh wave of resistance.

I didn’t feel like the problem was foundational to their character, but because asking for expert input made it feel like we were admitting it was.

So I did what a lot of dads do when they’re emotionally cornered: I went passive. I left it to my wife.

And this is not what I do at work. There, when something matters, I seek out expertise. I bring in specialists. I pressure-test assumptions. I try to get smarter faster.

Why wouldn’t I do that for my greatest work in progress?

One Ambitious Dad I interviewed even described his fatherhood fantasy of “having an expert on my shoulder.” (Fatherhood really does rewrite a man’s definition of “fantasy.”)

We want the expert… until calling one threatens our ego.

The psychologist didn’t threaten my child.
The psychologist threatened my story that I should already know what to do.

I’m not writing this to lessen my defensiveness (although it helps). I’m writing it because defensiveness is an important fatherhood pattern we don’t often name.

Defensiveness can show up when our kids do something “wrong.”

But it also shows up when they’re simply weak in an area. Behind. Socially clumsy. Struggling with impulse control. Not reading the room. And when they’re still learning the difference between “I’m upset” and “I’m entitled to be disrespectful.”

And because it’s our kid, we take the feedback personally, even when the belly flops are normal.

When our ego is flaring, we don’t need more “proof” we’re good dads. We need the capacity to listen, widen the lens, and collaborate with reality.

When my ego flares up, I can either fight the feedback… or listen to what’s underneath it:

• I’m afraid my kid will be labeled.

• I’m afraid I’m missing something important.

• I’m afraid this will get worse.

• I’m afraid I’m behind.

That fear deserves compassion. But it doesn’t deserve the steering wheel.

Here’s what I’m sitting with:

If I can consult experts to solve business problems, I can consult experts to solve family problems. Not because my child is broken. Because he’s growing.

And because fatherhood isn’t a performance. It’s a practice (with the steepest learning curve I’ve ever experienced!) Literally just when you think you’re getting the hang of it, they go through some developmental growth spurt and you start all over.

That’s why I’m (trying to) treat feedback like data, not a verdict.

So when the defensiveness rises, I won’t sprint to explanations. I will try to open to curiosity. And ask for help the same way I would if this were my most important business problem.

Because it is.