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What “Cat’s in the Cradle” taught me as a young dad trying not to miss the moment.

My son is almost 3. He just started stringing words together.

“Papa, come here.”
“Papa, look at this.”
“Papa, play.”

And most days, I don’t. Not really.
I nod while typing. Say “just a sec” while reading an email. Scroll through Teams during hide and seek.
I work from home. I thought that meant I was present. Turns out, proximity isn’t the same as presence.
A few months ago, I listened to Cat’s in the Cradle. Not in passing, but really listened.

“When you coming home, dad?” “I don’t know when
We’ll get together then, you know we’ll have a good time then”

I had to pause what I was doing. It hit me hard.
Because the song isn’t just about regret. It’s about pattern. About how quickly a child becomes what he sees. And right now, my son sees a Papa who’s often “too busy.”
That’s not who I want him to become.
Here’s the part that still lingers:
My job can replace me. My son can’t.
There are a hundred people who can do what I do for work.
There’s only one person who can be his Papa.
He doesn’t need grand gestures.
He just needs me to look. To play. To notice.

Since then, I’ve been making changes.

• Hard stop at 6 PM.
• Walks after lunch, just us.
• Fifteen minutes of undivided attention every morning. Even when I’m buried.

Not perfect. Not even close. But more intentional. Because I’d rather be a little behind on work than permanently behind on life.
I don’t want to wake up 10 years from now and realize I was “always around” but never really there.
When my son grows up and sings his version of “Cat’s in the Cradle,”
I want it to be a different song.