THE DADDY DOLL UNDER THE BED
When I was a little kid, a father was like the light in the refrigerator. Every house had one, but no one really knew what either of them did once the door was shut.
My dad left the house every morning and always seemed glad to see everyone at night.
He opened the jar of pickles when no one else could.
He was the only one in the house who wasn’t afraid to go in the basement by himself.
He cut himself shaving, but no one kissed it or got excited about it. It was understood whenever it rained, he got the car and brought it around to the door. When anyone was sick, he went out to get the prescription filled.
He kept busy enough. He set mousetraps. He cut back the roses so the thorns wouldn’t clip you when you came to the front door. He oiled my skates, and they went faster. When I got my bike, he ran alongside me for at least a thousand miles until I got the hang of it.
He signed all my report cards. He put me to bed early. He took a lot of pictures, but was never in them. He tightened up mother’s sagging clothesline every week or so.
I was afraid of everyone else’s father, but not my own. Once I made him tea. It was only sugar water, but he sat on a small chair and said it was delicious. He looked very uncomfortable.
Once I went fishing with him in a rowboat. I threw huge rocks in the water, and he threatened to throw me overboard. I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t, so I looked him in the eye. I finally decided he was bluffing and threw in one more. He was a bad poker player.
Whenever I played house, the mother doll had a lot to do. I never knew what to do with the daddy doll, so I had him say “I’m going off to work now” and threw him under the bed.
When I was nine years old, my father didn’t get up one morning to go to work. He went to the hospital and died the next day.
There were a lot of people in the house who brought all kinds of good food and cakes. We never had so much company before.
I went to my room and felt under the bed for the father doll. When I found him, I dusted him off and put him on my bed.
He never did anything. I didn’t know his leaving would hurt so much.
I still don’t know why.
By Erma Bombeck, June 21, 1981
Wishing for you a better life now and in eternity 
[…] THE DADDY DOLL UNDER THE BED […]
By: Blog Round Up for 2009 | Wishing for you a better life now and in eternity on January 1, 2010
at 12:46 am
Joe had seen this a long time ago and glad to read it again.We all need mothers and dads but today it seems easier to not try so hard to make us stay together.We all dont give 5o% we all give 100% to a marriage.I remember my dad being much like the dad you wrote about.He is now 84 and still such an important figure in my life.Dad was a share cropper when we lived in Tn. and also had 3,000 chickens.He worked hard from day light to dark and as I read this story that was my dad except for one thing he was always there for us no matter what.We always ate together and prayed together.I never had to put daddy under the bed.He was always there.The closer it comes to losing him the more I understand all he went through to bring us up and how hard it was for him to give us what we had.We grow up poor but we never knew it because everyone around us was poor.Thank you for reminding me of this inspiring story…
Dianne
By: dianne9 on February 9, 2010
at 9:17 am
[…] THE DADDY DOLL UNDER THE BED When I was a little kid, a father was like the light in the refrigerator. Every house had one, but no one really knew what either of them did once the door was shut. My dad left the house every morning and always seemed glad to see everyone at night. He opened the jar of pickles when no one else could. He was the only one in the house who wasn't afraid to go in the basement by himself. He cut himself shaving, but no o … Read More […]
By: THE DADDY DOLL UNDER THE BED (via Wishing for you a better life now and in eternity) | Wishing for you a better life now and in eternity on June 15, 2010
at 10:44 pm
My father was a hillbilly dick who did some of those things but was mainly an abusive pedophile.
By: Julie Witt on February 23, 2018
at 1:18 pm
I read this years ago and it always stayed with me even though I didn’t remember who wrote it and I could never find it until now. I even referred to it at my father’s funeral. A touching piece.
By: Linda on July 6, 2020
at 3:09 pm
[…] In a 1981 Father’s Day tribute, the American columnist Erma Bombeck wrote about playing with her dolls when she was a girl: Whenever I played house, the mother doll had a lot to do. I never knew what to do with the daddy doll, so I had him say “I’m going off to work now” and threw him under the bed. (https://joepalmer.wordpress.com/2009/06/20/the-daddy-doll-under-the-bed/) […]
By: Men Out of Focus: Father Time (Eliot Borenstein) – Russian History Blog on June 4, 2021
at 6:47 am