After His Own Father Walked Out, Rob Kenney Became the World’s Dad—Teaching Millions of Kids Life Lessons They Never Got at Home
If you asked Rob Kenney what kind of legacy he hoped to leave, he probably wouldn’t say fame or fortune. He’d say something simple: “I just want to help.” And that’s exactly what he’s done—quietly, humbly, and in the most wholesome way possible.
Rob’s story doesn’t start with viral success or a book deal. It begins with heartbreak. When he was just 14 years old, his father abandoned the family. Imagine that—being a teenager, barely figuring out life, and suddenly finding yourself without a dad. No one to teach you how to change a tire, tie a tie, or even talk about life. That kind of gap doesn’t just leave you confused—it leaves you with a quiet ache you carry for years.
And Rob carried that ache. But he didn’t let it harden him. Instead, he turned it into purpose.
Years later, as a grown man and father himself, he started a YouTube channel during the early months of the COVID-19 pandemic. The world was locked down, people were stuck indoors, and loneliness was everywhere. Rob, with his calm voice and kind eyes, opened his phone camera and launched a channel called: Dad, How Do I?
The title alone said everything.
The content? Even more powerful. Rob didn’t aim for flash or fame. He wasn’t trying to be an influencer or go viral. He was simply trying to teach people the kinds of basic, everyday skills that a dad usually would. Things like how to shave properly, unclog a sink, use jumper cables, iron a shirt, or cook spaghetti. The kinds of things most people take for granted—unless they’ve had to figure them out alone.
But it wasn’t just the “how-to” that made his videos special. It was how he taught them. Rob wasn’t just showing people how to fix things—he was showing them how to believe in themselves. His videos usually ended with a warm message: “I’m proud of you,” or “You’ve got this.”
And that’s when it really clicked.
Because for millions of kids, teens, and even adults around the world, no one had ever said those words to them before.
What started as a few simple videos quickly exploded into something much bigger. Rob’s YouTube channel gained millions of subscribers within months. Comments poured in from all over the world:
“I’m 30 years old, and I cried when he said he was proud of me.”
“This is the first time I’ve ever seen a dad show love like this.”
“He’s not just teaching life hacks—he’s healing something deeper.”
The emotional weight of Rob’s mission resonated deeply. For those who had lost their fathers, never knew them, or had toxic relationships with male role models, Rob filled that gap. Not perfectly. Not forever. But with enough warmth and wisdom to remind them they mattered.
And people started calling him The Internet’s Dad.
His videos didn’t need fancy editing or wild challenges. Just Rob, speaking gently, with a small smile, and a genuine desire to help.
Over time, his channel expanded. Rob added more thoughtful life advice, like how to apologize, how to handle stress, or how to treat people with kindness. His calm demeanor became a source of comfort, especially during the isolation of the pandemic. He even shared his own story—talking openly about the pain of growing up without a father, and how that pain eventually became his motivation.
He said he never wanted sympathy. He just wanted to be what he never had.
The success of the channel brought opportunities Rob never expected. He was featured on national television. People wrote articles about him. And eventually, he published a book: “Dad, How Do I?: Practical ‘Dadvice’ for Everyday Tasks and Successful Living.” The book offered even more lessons—not just on fixing things, but on living with intention, patience, and love.
Yet through all of this, Rob never let it go to his head. He’s still that guy next door. Still humble. Still grateful. Still just trying to help.
He once said in an interview, “I don’t want to monetize pain. I just want to offer hope.”
And that’s exactly what he’s done.
Rob Kenney’s story is proof that even the deepest wounds can be used to lift others. That healing doesn’t always come in big, loud gestures—but sometimes in the quiet way someone looks into a camera and says, “I’m proud of you.”
He didn’t plan to become a hero. He just showed up, honestly and kindly, and gave the world what it was missing.
And in return, the world gave him something back: millions of sons and daughters who now have someone to call “Dad,” even if it’s through a screen.