Dad Is Looking for a Job

My dad worked as a driver, and then the company shut down. That’s when the adventures started for him: day by day he read newspapers with job listings, invented ice cream, cut clouds, commanded hot-air balloons, and even managed to work as a king—almost flew off to Africa… But deep down, we both understood—my mom, my dad, and me—that it was all not for him. His calling was different.

"Mom was absolutely against the idea of Dad working as an artist. He couldn’t draw people at all. One of Mom’s portraits even had to be thrown out—she was so upset when she saw the drawing. I voted for him to work as a translator from the language of dogs. If Dad had been hired for that job, we finally could have had a dog at home! I would walk with it in the mornings, and Dad would—at evenings. We would also go to the park together, dress the dog for New Year as a reindeer, and teach it to pull a sled… But no one listened to me! And Dad was already dialing the number from the ad: 'Wanted: an indoor toad.'"