We start things off with Mike wailing that no one loves him because Elly isn't going to drop everything while he sits on his ass, continue merrily on with how no one loves him because he can do so many things but he's supposed to be ignored and love it while they fawn over Lizzie for simply being alive, follow that with his wailing about how he has to go to a building where he has to agree that yes, he has to learn the stoooooopid numbers that bore and confuse him because it's unfair that adding gives you the same answer every time and conclude with his squealing like a caught pig about being a rung on a ladder enslaved in family politics because he can't throw his weight around. While it's true that we're dealing with a vain, immature and self-absorbed clod who thinks that the least reverse is a sign that he's supposed to be an unacknowledgeable zero sitting in the outer darkness who's only allowed to appear in public when the bad people want to laugh at and kick and abuse because he dares to want to be happy, it can be safely said that his parents don't see the problem because they're busy congratulating themselves for letting it fester as long as it has.
After all, we're dealing with two fragile people who think that if Mike were to 'get away' with winning, the world would collapse into an anarchy where they're never allowed to say or do anything ever again because they too are the sort of eight-year old whiny annoyance that inhabits Marc Brown's "Arthur" range of books. The difference is that the anthropomorphic (and oddly snub-nosed) aardvark unsympathetic comedy protagonist is going to grow out of that some day. They never do and it's wonderful.