My father did a lot for a dad in the 60s/70s, although it still wasn’t 50%. But he also did all the traditional “dad” stuff like mowing the yard, once we had one to mow, and taking out the trash.
But, things he did do-- he made supper once a week, on Sundays. Sunday lunch was Shabbes leftovers, and then Sunday was something my father could make. His repertoire was limited: he made spaghetti with a tomato & beef sauce; steaks grilled outside in the summer, or on this stovetop grill thing on cold days; chili with beans and beef; or his one dairy dish, a kugel, with canned baked beans on the side. He rotated them, so we got each one each month. If there were five Sundays, we ordered pizza on the fifth one, and that is pretty much how often we had pizza.
Another thing my dad did was the laundry. There was a machine in the building, and Dad took all the laundry downstairs three times a week and washed and folded everything, and put most of it away. My mother did do the ironing, though. My father took in everything that needed dry cleaning on his way to work, and picked it up on his way home. Once my mother had her PhD and was working full-time, they sent stuff that needed ironing to the cleaners as well.
My father polished his shoes every night when I was really little. After he made full professor, and got the raise that went with it, he started having his shoes polished on the way to work by one of the people who had a stand in the subway.
I also had to put scuff cover on my school shoes every night, and polish them once a week in elementary school. In junior high, I wore athletic shoes (aka “sneakers”) to school every day, because times were changing.
My father did a few other things, including a lot of ad hoc stuff. He helped clear the table after dinner, and did the dishes in the evening. My mother did other dishes during the day. We got a dog from some people in our building who moved and couldn’t take him with them (IIRC, they were divorcing), and my father walked him every night. I went with him a lot. Dog and I were both 3 when we got him. He was a great dog.
My father also did a lot of stuff with my brother and me. I remember we used to get those kits from Radio Shack, and build things. I had a little radio I used for years that we had built. He taught me to catch and hit a ball, and then got me to play softball in a league for several summers, and came to watch all my games. I asked to try out for Little League, which had just started allowing girls, but my mother, who normally was all in favor of shattering glass ceilings, thought it was too competitive. I think now that she may have been referring more to the parents’ behavior than the kids’.
I spent very little time as a child in the company of just my mother once I was out of the toddler stage. By the time I was in preschool, I was cared for by my aunt, or my father, really. Which was probably for the best.