I haven't figured this out yet . . .
In the immortal words of Rodney Dangerfield, and as the title of this post suggest, I get no respect. Specifically from my son.
I have to say that today was pretty awesome. I made G pancakes for dinner, topped with whipped cream, raspberries and banana. Then we went swimming, where, despite running into the little boy that I despise, we had a pretty good time.
Not only did the boy (who from now on I might refer to as, “he who shall not be named,” because he doesn’t deserve one) ignore G when G was just trying to get his attention so they could play, but his mother had the audacity to scowl at us for no apparent reason. I thought last night’s attempts to talk to C were sad, but when the boy ignored G and he asked me why his “friend” wouldn’t play with him; that was sadder. Evidently, G can’t get any respect from this boy.
Luckily, that unpleasant family left shortly after we got there (and I kind of hope it was because of us), and we had a lot of fun shooting water, swimming, and just being silly in the pool together.
Despite all the fun we had, my day ended with G screaming that he wanted his mommy and his sister, and he said to me, “go away, I don’t want you!” I was hoping for a more peaceful end to the day, but maybe tomorrow.