Yesterday, my youngest son was feeling grumpy. He explained to me, in a very serious voice, how unreasonable his mother was being, insisting that they go kayaking.
“So,” I said. “Just to be clear, you’re upset that she wants to take you and your brother on a kayaking adventure. You’d rather sit at home and do nothing?”
“Exactly!” he said, clearly relieved that someone finally understood him.
“Hm. Good luck with that.”
He glared at me.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m on your side. There are tons of chores to do around this house: weeding, cleaning, washing windows. I’d much prefer you stayed home and did them.”
Cue big long-suffering sigh.
‘Cause, you know, no one understands him.