I get no respect.

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?

Wrong.

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.)

Being a glutton for punishment, I continued…

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.

Ezra: Exactly.

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.