In our house, Dad was like a king, always lost in his work, and Mom was his loyal servant, keeping the house running smoothly while Josh and I were barely noticed. That is, until the day we decided to wake Dad up to the reality of how we were living. We had no idea how much this would change everything.
Ever felt like you didn’t exist in your own home? Like the person who should be your role model barely notices you? That’s been my life for as long as I can remember. I’m Irene, and this is how my brother Josh and I gave our workaholic dad a wake-up call he never expected.
It was another typical Tuesday night. I was sitting at the kitchen table, wrestling with my math homework, while Josh lounged on the living room floor, engrossed in his comic book. As 6 p.m. approached, Dad walked in right on schedule.
He looked just like always—briefcase in one hand, tie loosened, barely glancing at us. “Hey,” he mumbled, then shouted, “Mariam! Where’s my dinner?”
Mom dashed out of the laundry room, carrying a basket of clothes. “Just finishing up the laundry, Carl. Dinner’s almost ready,” she said, clearly exhausted.
Dad grumbled, kicked off his shoes, and went straight for the PlayStation. In no time, the room was filled with the loud sounds of racing cars, drowning out everything else. No “How was your day?” No “How are the kids?” Just him and his game.
Josh caught my eye from across the room and rolled his eyes. I nodded back. This was our normal, but that didn’t make it any less hurtful.
“Ten minutes, Carl!” Mom called out again, but Dad didn’t even respond—too busy with his game.
I turned back to my homework with a sigh. This was the Thompson household: Dad the king, Mom the servant, and Josh and I, the invisible ones.
The next day, it got worse. I was setting the table when 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, frowning as if it was the end of the world. Mom stood there, looking drained and tired.
“Carl, I’ve been working all day and—”
“Working?” he interrupted, scoffing. “I work too, but I expect a clean house when I come home.”
That was it for me. My blood was boiling. Mom worked just as hard as he did, but she also managed the house, cooked every meal, and raised us. Dad? He worked, ate, played video games, and went to bed. And yet, here he was, complaining.
“We need to do something,” I told Josh that night in the kitchen.
“Do something about what?” he asked, munching on a snack.
“About Dad. He treats Mom like she’s nothing and acts like we don’t even exist. It’s time he feels what it’s like to be ignored.”
Josh’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m in. What’s the plan?”
We quickly made a plan, 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-deserved spa day. She was hesitant but finally agreed.
As 6 p.m. approached, Josh and I got into character. We raided Dad’s closet, putting on his shirts and ties. The clothes were too big for us, but that made it even funnier.
“Ready?” I asked Josh as we heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway.
He nodded, straightening a tie that was slipping off his neck. “Let’s do this.”
We took our positions—Josh on the couch with a magazine, and me by the door. My heart raced as Dad unlocked the door and walked in.
He stopped, eyes wide, taking in the sight of us dressed in his clothes. “What’s going on here?” he asked, clearly puzzled.
“I need my dinner,” I said in his usual 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 added. “Go ask Mom. Isn’t that what you always do?”
Dad stood there, completely stunned, as Josh and I kept up the 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 was starting 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 chimed in.
There was a long pause. You could almost see the realization settling in as Dad looked at us. His face softened, and when he finally spoke, his voice was much quieter. “Is this really how you see me?”
I took a deep breath and dropped 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 does everything at home too. All you do is complain.”
Dad’s shoulders slumped, guilt washing over him. Before he could say anything, Mom walked in. Her eyes widened when 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 all of us.
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, his voice sincere. “I’m going to do better. I promise.”
As we ate together, Dad 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 of us 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.
