Olivia: The most dangerous thing an expectant father can say is... 'Whatever you want, honey.' Jackson: Oh no. I feel personally attacked. That’s like, my go-to phrase for everything from dinner plans to major life decisions. Olivia: It sounds supportive, right? It feels like you're being the easy-going, helpful partner. But according to the book we’re diving into today, it’s the secret password to a future of resentment, regret, and, quite possibly, a baby named Percy in a sailor suit. Jackson: A baby named… Percy? In a sailor suit? Okay, I have to know. What is this about a sailor suit? You can't just drop that and walk away. That’s a future I need to actively avoid. Olivia: It’s the central warning in a book called DUDE, You’re Gonna Be a DAD! How to Get (Both of You) Through the Next 9 Months by John Pfeiffer. And what makes Pfeiffer’s perspective so interesting is that his expertise isn't academic or medical. It's deeply personal. Jackson: How so? Olivia: He’s a father of three, but his journey was really varied. He has a stepdaughter, a naturally conceived daughter, and another daughter conceived with the help of fertility treatments. So he’s seen fatherhood from multiple angles, which gives his advice this very grounded, real-world feel. He’s not a doctor; he’s a guy who’s been in the trenches. Jackson: I like that. It’s less of a textbook and more of a field guide written by a survivor. So, let’s get back to this fashion disaster in the making. What is the sailor suit scenario?

Olivia: It’s a brilliant, cautionary tale Pfeiffer uses right at the beginning of the book. He paints this picture of a dad-to-be who thinks he's being the perfect, supportive partner. His wife is deep in research mode—reading all the books, making all the plans. When she asks for his opinion on something, say, a name for the baby, he just smiles and says, "Sounds great, honey!" Jackson: The path of least resistance. I know it well. Olivia: Exactly. He thinks he's keeping the peace, being agreeable. This becomes a habit. She suggests the name Percy. He nods. She picks out the nursery decor, the stroller, the clothes. He agrees to it all. He’s just happy she’s happy. He’s being a ‘good guy.’ Jackson: I’m sensing a ‘but’ coming. A very large, frilly ‘but.’ Olivia: A very large, frilly ‘but.’ The baby arrives. It’s a boy. His name is Percy. And one morning, the dad walks into the nursery and sees his son, Percy, dressed in an elaborate, ruffled sailor suit. And in that moment, a horrifying realization dawns on him. Jackson: He hates it. Olivia: He hates all of it. He hates the name Percy. He hates the sailor suit. He has this flash-forward of his son getting bullied on the playground. And he realizes he has absolutely no right to complain. He agreed to every single decision. He was a passenger in his own life, and now he’s arrived at a destination he never wanted, with a co-pilot named Percy. Jackson: Wow. That is… chillingly specific and utterly believable. So the book's first big point is that silence isn't support, it's surrender? You’re not just avoiding conflict; you’re abdicating your role in building your own family. Olivia: That’s the core of it. Pfeiffer argues that for many men, their entire adult life has been conditioned around pregnancy prevention. So when it finally happens, there’s this massive psychological rewiring that needs to occur. You have to switch from a passive, preventative mindset to one of active, intentional participation. Just nodding along is a failure to make that switch. Jackson: That makes so much sense. You’re still in the "don't mess this up" mode, when you should be in the "let's build this together" mode. But isn't there a risk of overcorrecting? Of being too involved and becoming the guy who’s mansplaining contractions to the person who is literally experiencing them? Olivia: A great question. And the book is clear on this. It’s not about taking over or being a control freak. It’s about being an informed partner. His point is that the mom-to-be is already doing a ton of research. She’s living it 24/7. If you don't do your own homework, you can't have a meaningful conversation. You’re not a co-pilot; you’re just baggage. Jackson: You show up to the meeting having not read the memo. You can’t contribute, you can only consent. Olivia: Precisely. And that passive consent is what leads to the sailor suit. It’s about having an opinion, a preference, and a voice in the thousands of tiny decisions that will shape your future life. Because it’s much harder to change the baby’s name after the birth certificate is signed. Jackson: It’s a powerful metaphor for so many things in a relationship, really. The small things you let slide because it’s easier in the moment can build up into a future you don’t recognize. Olivia: And that’s the mental shift the book is trying to kickstart. It’s a call to evolve from a passive ‘dude’ into an active ‘dad.’ Jackson: Okay, so once you’ve made that mental shift and decided to be an active co-pilot, how do you actually fly the plane? What does the book say about navigating the day-to-day of the nine months? Olivia: Well, that’s where the book’s practical, trimester-by-trimester advice comes in. And it’s also where the book becomes, let's say, a topic of some very lively debate.

Jackson: I’m intrigued. What’s the debate? Olivia: The tone. The book has a very distinct, humorous style that readers either love or absolutely despise. It’s gotten a pretty polarizing reputation online. Some praise it for being accessible and funny, while others criticize it for what they call "frat-boy humor" and cringey clichés. Jackson: Ah, the "bro humor" approach to parenting. I've seen this genre. So let's get into it. Is the book’s style a bug or a feature? Is it a clever way to reach guys who wouldn't normally pick up a parenting book, or is it just perpetuating tired stereotypes? Olivia: I think the book is trying to do something very specific. It’s trying to bridge the gap between traditional, stoic masculinity and the modern expectation of an emotionally engaged father. The humor, as clumsy as it can be at times, seems to be a vehicle for that. For example, in the first trimester section, he talks about morning sickness. Jackson: The ultimate test. What’s his advice? Olivia: It’s incredibly practical. He doesn't just say "be supportive." He gives a scenario: your partner (who he sometimes calls the BMP, or 'Baby-Making Partner') suddenly gets that look on her face and makes a run for the bathroom. The 'dude' reaction might be to just stay on the couch. The 'dad' reaction is to follow her in, hold her hair back, get her a cold cloth, and offer words of comfort without making a big deal out of it. It's a small, practical act of service. Jackson: It’s a simple action that says "I'm with you in this." The humor is just the wrapper on a very solid piece of advice. Olivia: Exactly. And this is where you can see the book trying to engage with what some sociologists call "caring masculinities." It’s the idea that men can be caring, nurturing, and emotionally present without feeling like they're losing their identity. The "dude" jokes and the sports analogies are like a Trojan horse. They get the message of empathy and active support into the heads of men who might be turned off by a more earnest, emotionally vulnerable tone. Jackson: So the "dude" persona is the spoonful of sugar—or maybe beer—that helps the medicine of emotional intelligence go down. Olivia: That seems to be the intent. The book is full of these moments. It talks about taking on more chores without being asked, appreciating her changing body, and most importantly, showing up to the doctor's appointments. He stresses that the doctor's office is where you, the dad, can really demonstrate your engagement. You can ask informed questions, you can be a second set of ears, and you can be a source of stability if the news isn't what you hoped for. Jackson: It’s about being present. Physically and mentally. It reminds me of that real birth story in the appendix of the book. The father talks about the anxiety of watching the fetal monitor and how his presence was a form of support, even if he felt helpless. Olivia: Yes, that story is so raw and real. It perfectly illustrates the unpredictability of it all and why having a partner who is prepared and present is so crucial. The author makes a great point that you create a birth plan not because things will go according to plan, but because the process of planning forces you to discuss contingencies. You’ve already had the hard conversations before you’re in a crisis. Jackson: So you’re not trying to make decisions about emergency C-sections while alarms are blaring and everyone is shouting. You’ve already established your shared values. Olivia: You’ve established your shared values. And that’s the thread that runs through all three trimesters in the book. Whether it’s the first, where you’re dealing with morning sickness, the second, where you’re building a crib and going to birthing classes, or the third, where you’re finalizing paternity leave and packing the hospital bag—the underlying message is the same: be an active participant. Your involvement is the most important gift you can give your partner and your future child. Jackson: It’s a powerful message, even if it’s sometimes wrapped in a few questionable dad jokes. It seems like the whole book is a roadmap for avoiding that 'Sailor Suit' future. Olivia: It is. But it’s also about something much bigger than just the nine months of pregnancy. The payoff for all this active involvement isn't just a smoother pregnancy. It's about the kind of father you become for the rest of your life.

Jackson: What do you mean? How does the book connect this early involvement to long-term fatherhood? Olivia: He does it beautifully in the epilogue, with a story he calls "Doughnuts for Dad." It’s a personal anecdote that, for me, ties the whole book together. He talks about getting a flyer for a father-daughter event at his youngest’s school. His first reaction is annoyance. He’s busy, he has work, and it feels like just another obligation. Jackson: Oh, I know that feeling. The mandatory fun event. Olivia: Exactly. But he goes, reluctantly. And at the event, each daughter reads a poem she wrote about her dad. When it’s his daughter’s turn, she reads her poem, and it’s full of these sweet, slightly inaccurate things about him. She thinks he’s amazing because he plays with her and makes her breakfast—even though he knows his wife does most of the breakfast-making. Jackson: Kids have their own version of reality, and in it, you’re a superhero. Olivia: They do. And hearing his daughter's perspective completely shatters his cynical mood. He writes, "To say that her story meant a lot to me would not sufficiently describe it. I felt so proud of her, and so happy that I was lucky enough to be her dad." He realizes in that moment that his presence, his simple act of showing up, meant the world to her. Jackson: Wow. So the active involvement he preaches for pregnancy—holding her hair back, going to the doctor—it’s all just training for this. For the lifetime of showing up that follows. It’s not about just surviving the pregnancy; it’s about setting the foundation for being present. Olivia: That’s the profound insight. The sailor suit isn’t just a bad outfit; it’s a symbol of a disengaged life. The doughnuts aren’t just a snack; they’re a symbol of a connected one. The book, with all its humor and flaws, is ultimately a plea for men to choose connection over convenience, right from the very beginning. Jackson: It’s a call to be the dad your kid writes poems about, not the one who wakes up one day and realizes he’s a stranger in his own family. Olivia: And that choice starts with the simple decision to not just say, "Whatever you want, honey." It starts with having a conversation. Jackson: That’s a powerful takeaway. It makes you wonder, what's the 'sailor suit' in your own life? That small thing you let slide that became a big regret? Or maybe, what's the 'doughnut' moment you almost missed but are so glad you didn't? Olivia: That’s a perfect question for our listeners to reflect on. We’d love to hear your thoughts. What are the small acts of active partnership that have made the biggest difference in your lives? Join the conversation and let us know. Jackson: This has been a fascinating look at a book that’s more than just a guide—it’s a philosophy of modern fatherhood. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.