Breakfast had been an awkward, tension-filled affair. Jake, now in his sister’s 9-year-old body, sat at the table, squirming uncomfortably in the pink dress Anne had picked out for him. He grumbled incessantly, tugging at the hem and glaring at his reflection in the window whenever it caught his eye.
“This body sucks,” he muttered for what felt like the hundredth time. “I feel so small and weak. And this stupid dress… It’s itchy!”
“Stop pulling at it,” Anne said, her deep, commanding voice carrying effortlessly across the room. The sheer authority in her tone made Jake freeze mid-grumble, his small hands dropping to his lap.
Jenny sat quietly, already finished with her breakfast, her eyes fixed on her mom. Or rather, her dad. It wasn’t just how Anne looked—it was how she moved, how she spoke. For the first time in years, Jenny was seeing her father’s face and hearing his voice, and it was surreal. Her mom wasn’t just pretending to be him; she was him in so many ways, and that realization left Jenny silent and uneasy.
Once Jake’s plate was empty—mostly because Anne had given him “the look” when he’d tried to leave food behind—Anne cleared her throat, her presence commanding attention. “Alright, listen up,” she said, standing at the head of the table.
Both kids looked up, Jake frowning and Jenny looking wary.
“We need to set some ground rules,” Anne continued, crossing her arms in a way that made her biceps bulge slightly. She caught sight of her reflection in the kitchen window and couldn’t help but admire the physical power this body held. Thanks, babe, she thought wryly, appreciating how much easier it was to assert herself now.
“For the next two weeks, I’m not ‘Mom.’ I’m your father.” Her voice dropped slightly on the last word, and both kids flinched. “You will call me Dad, not Mom. Understood?”
“Are you serious?” Jake asked, his high-pitched voice incredulous.
Anne fixed him with a sharp stare. “Does it sound like I’m joking?”
Jake shrank back, muttering under his breath, “No, sir.”
Anne nodded, satisfied, and turned to Jenny. “And you, Jenny—well, not Jenny anymore. For the next two weeks, you’re Jake. Or Jaky, if I decide to get playful. You’re the older brother now, and I expect you to act like it.”
Jenny blinked, her discomfort evident. “I… Okay, but—”
“No buts,” Anne cut her off. “You’ve got the body of a 10-year-old boy. So that’s who you are.”
“And me?” Jake asked, his voice rising in irritation. “What do I get to be, huh?”
Anne smiled slightly, but it wasn’t her usual warm, motherly smile. It was sharper, more commanding. “You’re Jenny now. My baby girl. My little princess. And I expect you to act like a sweet, well-behaved young lady.”
Jake’s face turned red, and he slammed his small hands on the table. “No way! I’m not some dumb little girl!”
“And I’m not comfortable with this either,” Jenny said quietly, though her voice had an edge of frustration. “Why do we have to do this? Why can’t we just stay… ourselves?”
Anne raised her hands, her deep voice booming as she cut through their protests weth yelling in her much more louder and mackling voice. “You will do as your father tells you! Do I make myself clear?”
The room fell silent. Both kids stared up at her with wide eyes, their small bodies instinctively pulling back as though the sheer force of her presence pushed them down. Anne’s voice had a power her old body had never had, and she couldn’t help but relish it. This is what it feels like to be truly listened to, she thought, feeling a surprising surge of satisfaction.
After a few tense moments, Jake muttered, “Yes… Dad.”
Jenny nodded, swallowing hard. “Yes, sir.”
Anne smiled to herself, trying not to let her inner glee show. This body was incredible—strong, commanding, respected. She glanced down at her hands, the hands of her late husband, and thought, Thanks for this, babe. You’ve made parenting a whole lot easier.
“Good,” Anne said firmly. “Now, let’s get moving. The car’s already packed, and we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”
Jake groaned but slid off his chair, muttering complaints about the dress as he adjusted it. Jenny followed silently, her eyes darting occasionally to Anne, still looking slightly shell-shocked.
When they reached the car, Anne turned to Jake. “You’re riding in the back, princess. Youngest gets the backseat.” She ruffled his curls with a grin, and Jake scowled, batting her hand away.
“I hate this,” he grumbled, climbing into the back seat.
“And you,” Anne said, turning to Jenny, her voice softening slightly. “You’re up front with me, Jake. Let’s see if you can handle being the older brother.”
Jenny nodded hesitantly, sliding into the passenger seat. She glanced at Anne as she buckled in, still struggling to reconcile the father she saw with the mother she knew.
As Anne started the car, she glanced in the rearview mirror at Jake, who was sulking in his seat, arms crossed over the dress he despised.
“You know, princess,” Anne teased, her voice carrying a playful yet authoritative tone, “I think that dress suits you. You look adorable.”
“Shut up,” Jake muttered, his cheeks burning red.
Jenny smirked faintly, but the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease. She stole another glance at Anne, wondering how her mom had so completely embodied their father. The deep voice, the confidence, the subtle jokes—all of it felt so real.
Anne caught her staring and raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind, Jake?”
Jenny shook her head quickly. “No, sir. Just… this is all still really weird.”
Anne chuckled. “Weird or not, this is how it’s going to be for the next two weeks. So get used to it.”
As they pulled out of the driveway, the car fell into an uneasy silence. For the kids, the weight of the changes still felt suffocating. For Anne, though, the trip ahead filled her with a mix of excitement and curiosity.
This was her chance to explore what it meant to be the father her kids had lost—and maybe, just maybe, teach them a few lessons about what it meant to walk in someone else’s shoes.