Ten Dads Too Many

Starring Seth, Ella

When Ella builds a Father's Day invention to celebrate Seth, it accidentally splits him into ten different versions of himself: Cooking Dad, Dancing Dad, Sleepy Dad, Fix-It Dad, Snack Dad, and five more. Each copy has his own bedtime rule, and the house quickly becomes delightfully chaotic. Ella realizes her invention has gone too far and must use what she knows about the real Seth to bring him back together. The story celebrates listening, knowing the people you love, and the simple power of one honest bedtime plan.

Ella had a big plan for Father's Day. She sat at the kitchen table with cardboard tubes, silver foil, and a tangle of purple pipe cleaners, building something very important. "It's going to make Dad feel like a million dads," she told the building blocks on the floor, and she pressed a crayon heart right onto the front.

Seth came downstairs in his dark navy shirt, hair still neat, and stopped at the doorway. "Ella, what is that?" he asked, tilting his head at the foil-covered gadget on the table. "The Dad-Plicator," she said proudly, holding it up. "It's your present." Seth smiled and reached out to look at it more closely, and that was when Ella's elbow bumped the big orange button.

There was a loud POP, a fizz of purple sparks, and then the kitchen was very crowded. Five new dads stood blinking where Seth had been. One wore a chef's hat. One had his sleeves rolled up and his feet pointed sideways. One was already yawning into a small pillow. One had a yellow tool belt. One balanced a tray of crackers and grapes. Seth stood in the middle of all of them, looking at his own face five times over. "Hm," he said.

For a while, it was wonderful. Cooking Dad made pancakes shaped like stars. Dancing Dad spun Ella around the living room until she was dizzy and giggling. Fix-It Dad tightened the wobbly leg on Ella's bookshelf, and Snack Dad appeared every twenty minutes with a new tray of something crunchy. Sleepy Dad fell asleep on the sofa and snored softly through all of it. Seth watched from the armchair, unsure whether to feel proud or worried.

Then bedtime came, and everything fell apart. "Bedtime is seven o'clock," announced Cooking Dad, pointing his wooden spoon. "Seven-thirty," said Dancing Dad, shuffling his feet. "Eight," said Fix-It Dad firmly. Snack Dad said bedtime should come after one more snack, and Sleepy Dad said nothing because he was already asleep again. Ella looked at all five dads and then at Seth. "Which one is the real rule?" she asked. Nobody agreed.

Ella decided to fix it herself. She grabbed the Dad-Plicator and pressed the orange button again, pointing it straight at Cooking Dad. There was a POP, but instead of putting the dads back together, it made two Cooking Dads. Both of them pointed their wooden spoons at her. "Oops," said Ella.

Seth sat down on the kitchen floor next to Ella. "I think," he said slowly, "that the button does the opposite of what we need." Ella set the Dad-Plicator in her lap and looked at it. She thought about what she had actually wanted to give Seth for Father's Day. Not ten dads. Not even five. Just one dad who knew she loved him. "What if I just told them?" she said.

Ella stood up and walked to the living room, where all the dads had gathered in a grumpy huddle. She took a breath. "I made you because I wanted Dad to know how much I love all the things he does," she said. "The cooking and the dancing and the fixing and the snacks." She looked at each one. "But I only need one dad. And I think you do too." The dads went quiet. Sleepy Dad woke up for the first time all day.

One by one, each dad walked toward Seth. Cooking Dad handed him the wooden spoon. Dancing Dad pressed his rolled-up sleeves flat. Fix-It Dad unclipped the tool belt and set it gently on the shelf. Snack Dad left the tray on the table. Sleepy Dad tucked the pillow under the sofa cushion. Each one stepped into Seth like a wave folding back into the sea, until there was only one dad standing in the living room, looking a little dizzy. "Seven forty-five," Seth said. "That's bedtime."

Ella put the Dad-Plicator on the high shelf, next to the tool belt. Seth carried her to bed at seven forty-five exactly, the way he always did, one arm under her knees and one hand holding the back of her head. "Dad?" she said into his shoulder. "Yeah?" "You're already all of them." Seth didn't say anything. He just tucked the blanket up to her chin and sat on the edge of the bed until her breathing went slow.