Brian had always been his mom’s little baby boy. No matter how big he got she always treated him that way. So for him it wasn’t as much of a shock when his mother came smiling into his bedroom and talked to him like a senseless little child. Furthermore, years of conditioning kicked in and Brian put up even less of a struggle than Rachel. In fact he was still in shock, too dazed to fight back, to do anything but go with the flow. That was why he’d barely made a sound while his mom took him by the hand and led him down to the kitchen still dressed in his t-shirt and underoos alone.
It wasn’t until he had some warm oatmeal and apple juice in his stomach that he began to shake himself from the daze he’d fallen into. It was only then that he realised the apple juice he was drinking was in a plastic cup, the pancake placed before him already cut up into little pieces. He blinked and looked across the table at his mom. She was reading the newspaper, sipping coffee from a big mug, looking so grown-up, so mature. This was all wrong. Sure his mom treated him like a kid, but not to the point of cutting up his food for him or not trusting him with a glass.
“Mom, why did you cut up my pancake?” he finally asked.
Mom looked up from her paper, giving him one of those condescending smiles grown-ups reserved for silly little children. “I’m sorry Brian, we can’t have you eating with your fingers honey, even if you are cute as a button when you do.”
“No, I don’t want to eat with my fingers, I meant I can cut up my food myself.”
“Of course you can honey, but you always get quite messy when you do that, don’t you dear? I don’t have time to give you another bath this morning sweetie, you have school to get to. I promise you can cut up dinner all by yourself if you like.”
“School?” Brian gulped.
“Yes dear, it’s a Thursday honey. You know that means school,” she reminded him, glancing at the clock. “And you’d better hurry up eating, we need to get you dressed soon.”
Brian had lost his appetite. He couldn’t go to school looking like this! He could just picture his mother dropping him off at the lecture hall dressed in his SpongeBob t-shirt, teddy bear tucked under his arm, a colourful little lunchbox in the other hand. What would his friends say? How would Rachel ever let him live that down?
“Mom, I can’t go to school like this!” Brian blurted out, his fear to great to contain any longer.
Mom looked at his frightened face with concern. “What’s wrong Brian? You can’t go to school like what?”
Brian gestured to his SpongeBob t-shirt, eyes wide, pleading for her to understand. “Like this! The way I’m dressed!”
Now she smiled again. “Don’t be silly Brian, you aren’t going to school dressed like that! I wouldn’t send you in your undies you silly goose!” she chided him.
