Michael Lewis writes a funny “accidental guide to fatherhood” that would have gotten him institutionalized had he been a mother. Incorrigibly adolescent, he admits to chilling emotions, even fantasizes ways to kill a child — admissions I found unnerving at first.

Unlike absent dads of the past, Lewis records the evolution of male parenthood toward perfection with help from his sometimes cranky wife, Tabitha, who incubates and suckles his reference material. Dad delivers these stories over eight years for Slate, the Web magazine.

An ordinary father might teach old values like privacy and respect, and put a latch on the bathroom door, high enough so little kids could not lock themselves in. But Quinn freely roams, taunting her father in the shower, then mocking his small penis at school. He never tells us how she compared sizes, never acknowledges that there may be a line between good fun and risky behavior for some dads.

For anxious readers like me, this raises resistance — which Lewis overcomes by the time he falls asleep on the couch in the delivery room, exhausted by his third child’s birth. He hears a voice: “You’re ten centimeters.” His muddled mind tries to make sense: “The last time they’d brought the chains out onto the field, they’d measured her at a mere four centimeters. Ten was clearly forward progress, but it had been nearly five years, and I couldn’t recall how many centimeters there were in a first down.”

His nimble imagination prowls for mischievous stories. We sense his sidelong glance and devious smirk as he drives a car already raucous with Quinn and her three-foot friends, letting them say the dirtiest words they know. He cruises a posh Bermuda pool like a breaching crocodile, secretly delighted when tiny Dixie scares off big annoying boys with a stream of profanity and ominous threats.

For me, the marvel is how he treats these females, big and little, like real people, whose company he actually enjoys without patronizing reverence, but with manly metaphors: “A family is like a stereo system . . . only as good as its weakest component, and a family is only as happy as its unhappiest member.”

He is a vigilant problem-fixer, turning to Google for help with Tabitha’s post-partum panic disorder. He bonds by protecting his gravely ill infant son from marauding hospital staff. Most hilarious of all is the vasectomy that signals total commitment to this team.

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