Zach’s been asking to go back to school. He misses his friends. And we haven’t gotten much done school-wise lately as we prepare to leave the country on a three-month sabbatical. Not a lot going on to bolster my ever-hungry ego.
So I foolishly tossed the boys what I thought was a softball question. I knew it was stupid, but I thought it would give them a chance to express their gratitude for all I do. They might even throw in an unsolicited hug. A girl can hope, right?
Me: Would you say that I am the best mom in all of Cambridgeport?
The Boys: No! No way!
I should have just stopped at this point. But now I was curious.
Me: Really? Who is the best mom?
Zach: Oh, Max’s mom. Or Nathan’s mom.
Ezra: All of the Amigos moms, really. (Amigos is the name of the public school the boys attended before homeschooling.)
Me: Is Daddy the best daddy in all of Cambridgeport?
The Boys: Yes! Definitely!
Me: Really? Daddy is so much better?
Ezra: Not really. It’s just that the moms are a lot better than the dads.
Me: So you’re saying that I have more competition than Daddy.
Bad news for me. Bad news for the weak field of fathers in our neighborhood. I guess that’s what I get for soliciting praise from ingrates who don’t appreciate that I make them write essays, drill flash cards, and wash their hands after they poop.