It Just Ain't Happenin'

By Melanie E.

Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can't have the things you want.

0--0

"Mom!"

"Yes, honey?" I called up the stairs, then checked my watch again. If Taylor didn't hurry up we'd be late. "Is everything okay?"

"No," I got back, petulant and stressed. "No it isn't!"

With a huff and another glance at my watch I climbed the stairs and opened my child's door to see them standing there, half-dressed and looking ready to pop.

I studied their ensemble for a moment and tried not to laugh. I guess my face betrayed me, though, as Taylor glared at me and threw the polo shirt they had been trying to pull on at my head.

"It's not funny!"

"Sorry, hon, sorry," I told them, reigning in my mirth and picking up the shirt they had thrown at me.

It was obvious why they couldn't get the shirt on. The summer had seen my baby grow up quite a bit, and though the material of the shirt was thin and soft there was no way it would fit my child's now more robust frame. The same could be said for the skinny jeans they were trying to do up, the zipper stretched wide to the sides on their broader hips.

"I know this is one of your favorite outfits," I told them quietly, folding the shirt and putting it on their bed. "And I know you wanted to wear it one more time before retiring it . . . but it's just not going to happen. You've grown up too much."

Taylor looked at me, and despite the brave face they were trying to put on I saw the tears in their eyes. "I know, it's just . . . I just wanted . . . ."

I nodded and wrapped them in a hug, patting their back gently. "Shh, shh, it's okay. We'll get through this." I looked down at the pants, then looked Taylor in the eyes. "But not in that outfit. I'm sorry, but it just ain't happenin', hon."

My watch beeped at me, telling me it was time to go, and here we were with Taylor still undressed. I couldn't wait any longer, so went to their closet and started pulling out clothes.

"Mom!"

"Nope! No time," I told them, not willing to brook another argument. "You've pushed it too long and look at where we are now. I wanted to give you a chance to make your own choices, but we both know that *that,*" I said, pointing at the splayed fly, "isn't working."

I handed them a pair of larger jeans we had bought only the week before, as well as a different polo shirt. "This is the closest you have to those that will fit."

"But it's so . . . . "

"It's so what?" I asked, my patience running thin.

"Girly?"

I sighed. "That didn't seem to bother you last week when you picked them out, now did it?"

Taylor shook their head, took the clothes, and sighed.

"And get rid of those tightie whities too," I said. "And for god's sakes put on your bra!"

"Mom!"

"Nah!" I pointed at the chest of drawers and glared. "I'll be downstairs, you have ten minutes."

"Ugh, fine!"

I stepped out the door and closed it just as my child began digging through the chest and pulling out proper underwear.

Ten minutes later Taylor trudged down the steps and stood in the kitchen, giving me a sullen look.

I shook my head and 'tsk'ed at them. "I know you wanted to ease everyone who hasn't seen you yet into your new look, but hon, it's just not happening. I hate to say it, but the doctor's have done too good of a job: there's just no way you can look like a young man again."

"I know, I know," Taylor said, picking up the lunch I'd fixed them and grabbing their bag on the way toward the door. I followed them, and locked the house up behind us. "I just thought if people saw a bit of the old me maybe they wouldn't freak out as much?"

"Honey, if you'd worn that outfit to school it's the teachers who'd have freaked out."

We were standing to either side of the car when I said that, but Taylor looked across the top, caught my eyes with theirs, and soon we were both laughing.

"You're right, Mom, always are."

"So everything's good then?" I asked, double checking that my child was as ready for her first year of school as a girl as possible.

"Yeah," she said, nodding, then gave me an impish grin. "Unless we have time for me to go put on that denim skirt I got?"

Instead of answering, I rolled my eyes and started the car.

NOTE:

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