Do you ever feel like you’re invisible at home? Like your presence doesn’t even register with the people who should know you best? Well, that’s how my brother Josh and I felt for a long time.

My name is Irene, and I want to share the story of how we taught our workaholic dad a lesson he never saw coming.

Growing up in our household, Dad was always consumed by his work. He acted like a king, while Mom was left to handle everything else. Josh and I felt like we were living in the shadows, until one day, we decided to shake things up and make Dad see things from our perspective.

It was just another typical Tuesday evening. I was struggling with my math homework at the kitchen table, while Josh was engrossed in his comic book in the living room.

As the clock struck 6 p.m., Dad walked in, right on schedule.

But instead of acknowledging us, he barely spared a glance in our direction. He was completely absorbed in his own world. His greeting was a mere mumble of “Hey” before he immediately demanded, “Mariam! Where’s my dinner?”

Mom rushed out of the laundry room, balancing a basket of clothes. She looked exhausted as she replied, “Just finishing the laundry, Carl. Dinner’s almost done.”

Without a word of gratitude, Dad grumbled, kicked off his shoes, and made a beeline for the PlayStation. The room soon filled with the sounds of racing cars, drowning out any attempt at conversation. No “How was your day?” or “How are the kids?”—just him and his game.

Josh and I exchanged knowing looks. We were tired of this routine, but we knew we had to do something about it. “We need to shake things up,” I told Josh in the kitchen that night.

“Are you talking about Dad?” he asked, intrigued.

“Yes, Josh. Dad treats Mom like she’s invisible, and he ignores us. It’s time he understands how that feels,” I explained.

Josh’s face lit up with excitement. “Count me in. What’s the plan?”

We quickly devised a plan, knowing we had to act swiftly to make Dad experience his own behavior. The next day, we convinced Mom to take a well-deserved spa day, even though she was initially hesitant.

By 6 p.m. the following day, Josh and I were ready. We rummaged through Dad’s closet, donning his oversized shirts and ties. The clothes hung off us, adding to the humor of the situation.

“Ready?” I asked as we heard Dad’s car pull into the driveway.

Josh adjusted his way-too-big tie and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

We took our positions—Josh with a magazine on the couch, and me standing by the door. My heart raced as Dad unlocked the door and stepped in.

He froze, wide-eyed, taking in the sight of us dressed in his clothes. “What’s going on here?” he asked, thoroughly confused.

“I need my dinner,” I mimicked his demanding tone.

Josh didn’t even bother looking up from the magazine. “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 slyly. “Ask Mom. Isn’t that what you always do?”

Dad stood there, completely stunned, as Josh and I stayed in character. I took charge of the PlayStation controller and started playing, while Josh casually flipped through the magazine.

Dad’s frustration started to show. “Seriously, what is this?” he demanded.

I gave him a sarcastic look. “Oh, were you talking to me? I’m kinda busy here.”

“Just like you always are,” Josh chimed in.

A moment of silence followed. It was evident that Dad was beginning to see the truth. His face softened, and his voice dropped. “Is this really how you see me?”

With a sigh, I dropped 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 joined in, “She works just as hard as you, if not harder, and then she takes care of everything at home. All you do is complain.”

Dad’s shoulders slumped with guilt. Before he could say anything else, Mom walked in, her eyes wide at the scene that unfolded before her.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking between Dad and us.

Dad turned to her, tears welling up. “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. “I’ll make dinner! How about some flatbread?” he called out.

We sat at the table, unable to believe what was happening. Dad served us dinner and apologized with each scoop of food.

“I’ve neglected all of you, and I see that now,” Dad confessed sincerely. “I’ll do better. I promise.”

As we ate, Dad asked us about school and our day—things he hadn’t done in years. It felt strange, but it felt good.

Josh and I exchanged smiles, still surprised that our plan had actually worked.

After dinner, Dad smiled at us genuinely. “Thank you,” he said. “Thank you 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 mischievously. “And now that you’re paying attention, how about joining us for a game on the PlayStation?”

Dad laughed—an infectious sound that I realized I had missed. “Deal. But first, let’s clean up. Together.”

As we tidied up, it felt like something had shifted. For the first time in years, we weren’t just going through the motions. We were a real family again.

It wouldn’t be perfect overnight, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.