The Bluey Edition

On cartoons, modern fatherhood, and the power of play.

Kevin Maguire (KM) writes The New Fatherhood and works as a transitional coach.  He previously wrote editions on FC Barcelona, the rickshaw and voice memos.

As long as we've been watching TV, it has been filled with a steady stream of below-par dads. They’re there to laugh at, but never aspire to: dads like Al Bundy, George Bluth Sr., or Homer Simpson (who only agreed to stop strangling his son in public last November). Often they're worse: you wouldn't wish Don Draper as a dad on your worst childhood enemy; and whilst Walter White said he was doing everything for his family, it was more about massaging his ever-growing ego and thirst for power (a story sadly reflected with many dads I’ve encountered throughout my career).

Kids' TV today doesn't fare much better—the most recognizable father figure to this generation of children would be Daddy Pig: an incompetent fool whose hobbies include watching TV, eating chocolate cake, and generally avoiding any physical activity. He’s father to a daughter who constantly fat-shames him and the cause of—and never solution to—his family's woes. 

You can’t be what you can’t see. And that’s why I'm so thankful for Bandit Heeler, father-in-chief on the kid’s TV show Bluey. For the uninitiated, Bluey is a show about a family of dogs who live in Brisbane, Australia. Bandit works as an archaeologist, and his wife Chilli works in airport security (he digs bones, and she sniffs suitcases, I assume?). But it’s really what happens at home that brings the show to life, and the heart-warming and ambitious portrayal of the modern dad.

Why is this interesting?

A few years ago I started a newsletter about how the modern definition of fatherhood was changing at a faster pace for this generation of men than any before it. Fault lines that have lay untroubled for hundreds of years—dad went to work, earned a dependable wage, came home, and that was it—are shifting on tectonic plates beneath our feet. The world has changed, but the portrayal of the father in modern entertainment has not, and continues to reinforce the TV trope of the bumbling dad. 

Bandit gleefully breaks away from this tired stereotype. For one, he’s the primary caregiver, which is an oddity on TV, even today. But it’s not just what he does, it’s how he does it: playing joyously with his kids, changing our perception of what dads can be, and inspiring us to be better. It’s no hyperbole to say he raises the bar for fatherhood—he’s the dad you could be if you left your phone in the other room, closed your laptop, and joined the fun. You too could be more present. More playful. More patient. And maybe bake a duck cake or two.

Bandit is not a perfect parent. None of us are. There are episodes that remind you of your own parenting mistakes, like when he took the kids to play at his brother’s pool, forgetting everything essential and only bringing the fun stuff. More than once I've been stranded outside without sunscreen or wet wipes and, like Bandit, thankful for my wife who came to save the day. Another time he got busted by the kids as he was trying to throw out their old drawings; I've since learned the subtle art of hiding them under something less interesting in the recycling bin.

In the season one episode “Takeaway” Bandit attempts to read a newspaper while he waits for a food order to be ready. Chaos inevitably ensues. This seven minute episode perfectly encapsulates the bedlam that seven minutes with kids can bring—and is a nod to another trio of my favorite characters memorably waiting for Chinese food. Even amidst the mayhem, the show reminds us that if we can relinquish the need to control every tiny aspect, life is full of opportunities to experience joy.

In an interview, showrunner and writer Joe Brumm summed up the appeal of the show for parents:

“I think what anyone can relate to with Bandit and Chilli is that, despite the ups and down, they really love those kids and they just want what’s best for them [...] Kids love it because it’s silly and it reminds them of themselves—whereas I think it makes parents get emotional because having kids is emotional and it’s just a mirror to you. You’re not crying because of Bandit’s love for his kid, you’re crying because of how much you love your kid and he just reminds you of that.”

 Most kids’ TV shows aim their moral compass at the children—teaching them how to deal with trauma, creating space for mindfulness, and that love is love. But Bluey aims to teach parents a lesson too. In another of my favourite episodes, Bandit plays a game called  ”Born Yesterday” with the kids. In order to take part, he is required to act like it is his first day on the planet. He experiences childlike wonder, and adopts what Zen Buddhists call shoshin: the beginner’s mind. He ends the day marvelling at the tiny universe contained within a leaf, feeling the worries of the day disappearing into the ether. 

Some parents argue that Bandit and Heeler set unattainable goals, and “make parents feel like crap.” One critic says the show creates “envy and longing and a touch of shame [and] often leaves me feeling as though I come up short.”  But the dads I recommend this show to regularly come come back to thank me, telling me things like, "It's made me more intentional about the dad I want to be", that "it forces me to be more present in the lives of my kids", and "I now try and take every opportunity I can to play together." 

Last month, I was talking to a friend about how much we love the show. "I often find myself thinking of Bandit when I’m busy and my daughter wants my attention," he told me. Even though Bandit once decreed that you should never take advice from a cartoon dog, I know I’m not alone in feeling the opposite. 

My current parenting mantra? Simple "What Would Bandit Do?"

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Thanks for reading,

Noah (NRB) & Colin (CJN) & Kevin (KM)

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