In our house, Dad was the king, always buried in his work, while Mom was the one running everything behind the scenes. My brother Josh and I felt like we barely existed. But everything changed one day when we decided it was time for Dad to wake up to how things really were.
Have you ever felt invisible in your own home, like the person who should be your role model barely notices you? That’s how it was for me, Irene. This is the story of how Josh and I gave our workaholic dad a wake-up call he never expected.
It was a regular Tuesday night. I was hunched over the kitchen table, struggling with math homework, while Josh sprawled out on the living room floor, absorbed in his comic book. The clock ticked closer to 6 p.m., and just on cue, Dad barged in.
He looked the same as always—briefcase in hand, tie hanging loosely, barely glancing at us. “Hey,” he mumbled as he stormed past us, then immediately yelled, “Mariam! Where’s my dinner?”
Mom rushed out of the laundry room, balancing a basket of clothes. “Just finishing up the laundry, Carl. Dinner will be ready soon,” she said, clearly exhausted.
Dad grumbled, kicked off his shoes, and plopped down in front of the PlayStation. The roar of racing cars soon filled the room, drowning out everything else. No “How was your day?” or “How are the kids?”—just him and his game.
Josh caught my eye and rolled his eyes. I nodded in agreement. This was our routine, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.
“Ten minutes, Carl!” Mom called again, but Dad didn’t respond—too engrossed in his game.
I turned back to my homework, sighing. This was the Thompson household: Dad the king, Mom the servant, and Josh and I, the invisible ones.
The next day, things got worse. As I was setting the table, I heard Dad’s familiar complaint. “Mariam, why are these magazines so dusty? Do you ever clean around here?”
Peeking around the corner, I saw Dad holding up one of his car magazines, looking like he’d been wronged by the world. Mom stood there, looking drained.
“Carl, I’ve been working all day and—”
“Working?” he interrupted, cutting her off. “I work too, but I expect to come home to a clean house.”
That was the last straw for me. My blood boiled. Mom worked just as hard as he did, but also managed the house, cooked all the meals, and took care of us. Dad? He worked, ate, played video games, and went to bed. And yet, he still complained.
“We need to do something,” I told Josh that night in the kitchen.
“Do something about what?” he asked, grabbing a snack.
“About Dad. He treats Mom like she’s nothing and acts like we don’t exist. It’s time he understands what it’s like to be ignored.”
Josh’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m in. What’s the plan?”
We quickly came up with a plan. It was time for Dad to experience his own behavior. The next day, we convinced Mom to take a well-deserved spa day. She was hesitant but eventually agreed.
As 6 p.m. approached, Josh and I got into character. We raided Dad’s closet, slipping into his shirts and ties. The clothes were too big for us, but that only made our act more convincing.
“Ready?” I asked Josh as we heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway.
He nodded, straightening a tie that was almost falling off. “Let’s do this.”
We took our places—Josh on the couch with a magazine, and me standing by the door. My heart raced as Dad unlocked the door and walked in.
He froze, his eyes widening as he saw us dressed in his clothes. “What’s going on here?” he asked, clearly puzzled.
“I need my dinner,” I said, mimicking his demanding tone.
Josh didn’t even look up from his magazine. “And don’t forget to clean the PlayStation when you’re done.”
Dad blinked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Wait, what are you two doing?”
I waved him off. “I’m busy. Don’t bother me with questions.”
“Yeah,” Josh chimed in. “Go ask Mom. Isn’t that what you always do?”
Dad stood there, completely stunned, as Josh and I kept up our act. I grabbed the PlayStation controller and started playing, while Josh flipped through the magazine without a care.
“Seriously, what is this?” Dad’s frustration began to show.
I gave him a sarcastic look. “Oh, sorry, were you talking to me? I’m kinda busy here.”
“Just like you always are,” Josh added, not missing a beat.
There was a long pause. You could almost see the realization dawning on Dad. His face softened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. “Is this really how you see me?”
I took a deep breath, dropping the act. “Yes, Dad. This is exactly how you’ve been treating us and Mom. You’re always too busy for us, and you treat Mom like she’s just here to serve you.”
Josh nodded, his voice steady. “She works just as hard as you do, but she handles everything at home too. All you do is complain.”
Dad’s shoulders slumped, and guilt washed over him. Before he could say anything, Mom walked in. Her eyes widened as she saw us all standing there.
“What’s going on?” she asked, looking between us and Dad.
Dad looked at her, tears in his eyes. “I… I think I’ve been a terrible husband and father. I’m so sorry.”
Without another word, he walked into the kitchen. We watched in stunned silence as he started rummaging through the cupboards. “Making dinner! Flatbread, anyone?” he called out, surprising us all.
We sat down at the table, still in shock. Dad emerged from the kitchen with a steaming pot and served us, apologizing with every scoop.
“I’ve been neglecting all of you, and I see that now,” he said sincerely. “I’m going to do better. I promise.”
As we ate together, Dad actually asked us about school, about our day—things he hadn’t done in years. It felt strange, but in a good way.
Josh and I exchanged glances, both in disbelief. Maybe this had worked after all.
After dinner, Dad smiled at us—really smiled. “Thank you,” he said softly. “For waking me up. I needed that.”
“We’re just glad you listened,” I replied, feeling a warmth in my chest I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Josh grinned. “And now that you’re paying attention, maybe you’ll join us for some PlayStation?”
Dad laughed, a sound I realized I had missed. “Deal. But first, let’s clean up. Together.”
As we cleaned up, it felt like something had shifted. For the first time in years, we weren’t just going through the motions. We were a family again. It wouldn’t be perfect overnight, but it was a start. And that was enough.
