Telha
In our household, Dad acted like a king, completely absorbed in his work, while Mom was more like a servant, handling everything else. Josh and I, as the kids, felt almost invisible. That is, until we decided to shake things up and make Dad realize what was really happening.
Have you ever felt like you’re invisible at home? Like the person who’s supposed to be your role model barely acknowledges you? That’s been my life for as long as I can remember. I’m Irene, and this is the story of how my brother Josh and I taught our workaholic dad a lesson he didn’t see coming.
It was just another Tuesday night. I sat at the kitchen table, struggling with my math homework, while Josh lounged on the living room floor, engrossed in his comic book. As the clock crept toward 6 p.m., Dad walked in, right on schedule.
He looked the same as always—briefcase in hand, tie loosened, barely giving us a glance. “Hey,” he muttered without making eye contact, then immediately shouted, “Mariam! Where’s my dinner?”
Mom rushed out of the laundry room, balancing a basket of clothes. “Just finishing the laundry, Carl. Dinner’s almost done,” she said, clearly worn out.
Dad grumbled, kicked off his shoes, and headed straight for the PlayStation. Soon, the room was filled with the roar of racing cars, drowning out everything else. No “How was your day?” or “How are the kids?”—just him and his game.
Josh rolled his eyes and exchanged a look with me. I nodded back. This was our routine, but it didn’t make it any less painful.
“Ten minutes, Carl!” Mom called again, but he didn’t bother responding—too engrossed in his game.
I sighed and returned to my homework. This was life in the Thompson household: Dad, the king; Mom, the servant; and Josh and me, the invisible kids.
Things got even worse the next day. I was setting the table when I heard Dad complain again. “Mariam, why are these magazines so dusty? Do you ever clean around here?”
I peeked around the corner and saw him holding up one of his car magazines, frowning like it was the biggest problem in the world. Mom stood there, looking exhausted.
“Carl, I’ve been working all day and—”
“Working?” Dad cut her off, scoffing. “I work too, but I still expect to come home to a clean house.”
That was it. My blood boiled. Mom worked just as hard as he did—plus, she ran the house, cooked, and raised us. Dad? He worked, ate, played video games, and went to bed. And now he was complaining?
“We need to do something,” I told Josh that night in the kitchen.
“About what?” he asked, grabbing a snack.
“About Dad. He treats Mom like she’s invisible and ignores us. It’s time he understands what that feels like.”
Josh’s face lit up. “I’m in. What’s the plan?”
We crafted a plan quickly, knowing we had to act fast. It was time for Dad to experience his own behavior. The next day, we convinced Mom to take a well-earned spa day, even though she was reluctant at first.
By 6 p.m., Josh and I were ready. We raided Dad’s closet, dressing in his oversized shirts and ties. The clothes hung off us, but that only added to the humor.
“Ready?” I asked as we heard Dad’s car pull in.
Josh nodded, adjusting his way-too-big tie. “Let’s do this.”
We took our positions—Josh with a magazine on the couch, and me by the door. My heart raced as Dad unlocked the door and stepped in.
He stopped, eyes wide, taking in the sight of us dressed in his clothes. “What’s going on here?” he asked, confused.
“I need my dinner,” I mimicked his demanding tone.
Josh didn’t even glance up. “And don’t forget to clean the PlayStation when you’re done.”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up in shock. “What are you two doing?”
I waved him off. “I’m busy. Don’t bother me with questions.”
“Yeah,” Josh added. “Ask Mom. Isn’t that what you always do?”
Dad stood there, completely stunned, as Josh and I stayed in character. I grabbed the PlayStation controller and started playing, while Josh flipped through the magazine.
“Seriously, what is this?” Dad’s frustration started to show.
I gave him a sarcastic look. “Oh, were you talking to me? I’m kinda busy here.”
“Just like you always are,” Josh added.
A long pause followed. You could see the realization hit Dad as he looked at us. His face softened, and his voice dropped. “Is this really how you see me?”
I sighed, dropping the act. “Yes, Dad. This is exactly how you treat us and Mom. You’re always too busy for us, and you treat Mom like she’s just here to serve you.”
Josh chimed in, “She works as hard as you, plus does everything at home. All you do is complain.”
Dad’s shoulders slumped with guilt. Before he could speak, Mom walked in, her eyes wide at the scene.
“What’s going on?” she asked, looking between Dad and us.
Dad turned to her, tears in his eyes. “I think I’ve been a terrible husband and father. I’m so sorry.”
Without another word, he headed into the kitchen. We watched, stunned, as he started pulling out pots and pans. “Making dinner! Flatbread, anyone?” he called.
We sat at the table in disbelief. Dad served us dinner and apologized with every scoop.
“I’ve neglected you all, and I see that now,” he said, his voice sincere. “I’ll do better. I promise.”
As we ate, Dad asked about school and our day—things he hadn’t done in years. It felt strange, but good.
Josh and I exchanged glances, still surprised that our plan had worked.
After dinner, Dad smiled at us—really smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “For waking me up. I needed that.”
“We’re just glad you listened,” I said, feeling a warmth in my chest that I hadn’t felt in a long time.
Josh grinned. “And now that you’re paying attention, how about joining 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.
