Ever felt invisible at home? Like the person you’re supposed to look up to doesn’t even know you exist? I’m Irene, and this is how my brother and I taught our dad a lesson he’d never forget.
It was a typical Tuesday evening. I sat at the kitchen table with math homework, while my younger brother Josh lay on the living room floor, reading a comic. As usual, Dad came home, barely acknowledging us. “Hey,” he said, walking past us.
“Where’s my dinner?” he bellowed.
Mom, looking frazzled, called back, “Coming, Carl. Just finishing the laundry.”
Dad grunted, settled on the couch with his PlayStation, and began playing. The sounds of his game drowned out everything else. I glanced at Josh, who rolled his eyes in silent agreement. This was our norm: Dad as king, Mom as a servant, and Josh and I as invisible.
“I’m sorry, Carl. I’ve been busy with work and—”
Dad cut her off. “I work too. I expect a clean house.”
Mom did everything—work, cooking, cleaning, and caring for us. Dad did little but work, eat, play games, and sleep. My blood boiled.
“That’s it,” I muttered. I told Josh we needed to do something about Dad’s behavior. He agreed, and we hatched a plan.
The next day, we convinced Mom to take a spa day, promising to handle things at home. We raided Dad’s closet for his shirts and ties. As 6 p.m. approached, we took our positions: Josh on the couch with a magazine and me near the door. My heart raced as Dad’s car pulled into the driveway.
When Dad walked in, he was stunned to see us dressed in his clothes.
“What’s going on?” he asked, bewildered.
I mimicked his demanding tone. “I need my dinner.”
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