Ergo, Must Hate Job

Recently overheard in my kitchen. He is my son. Me is me.

He: Stop reading that!
(snatches Harper's)
Me: Hey, gimme my magazine back!
He: It's not a magazine, it's a dumb book full of work that you hate.
Me: It's not, it's a magazine--hey, who told you I hate work?
He: Don't you hate your work?
Me: (Laughing and then lying) No!
He: Well, you're supposed to. Cause it never lets you see me.

Let us thus file this under C, for Check. And under R, for Reality.