Zero Sympathy

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.

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