I pulled back the dressing room curtain. "You don't happen to have these jeans with a 34" inseam do you?" I asked hopefully.

The attendant shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. The longest we carry is 32."

I sighed. "Figures."

I hate shopping for clothes. I'm so unproportioned. My legs end where most girls' waists begin.

My son cocked his head, considering. "Those look nice mom."

I looked ruefully at my ankles. "If I wanted to go puddle-jumping maybe."

He giggled.

"Be right back." I disappeared into the dressing room.

Brian sat down on the bench outside the door, swinging his legs.

"I bet if you had beds in these dressing rooms, you'd sell a lot more jeans," he told the attendant.

The woman looked puzzled. "Why?"

Brian shrugged. "So people can lie down to zip up their pants. That's what my mom does."

"Brian!" I growled warningly from behind the curtain.

"She's not my real mother, you know" he continued conversationally.

"Really." The clerk smiled at him.

"Nope. She's not. My real mother is Tina. She's the queen of Mars, and she only wears purple polka dot dresses."

"Is that a fact?"

Brian nodded. He leaned forward confidentially. "You see there was a big war on Mars so my mom sent me to Earth in a rocketship to protect me. She's going to send for me later."

"I see." The woman sounded amused.

"Wanna see the scar on my chin from when I fell down and cut it open? The doctor had to use six stitches."

"Wow! Did it hurt a lot?"

"Yeah. My mom and my sister had to sit on me to hold me down so the doctor could sew it up. It's okay now though."

"Well, I'm glad it's all better," said the clerk kindly.

"Me too. I don't like hospitals much. Mom almost had to take her best friend to the rug burn unit last night--"

I threw back the curtain and grabbed my son firmly by the hand.

"Out. Now."

Brian grinned up at me and waved goodbye to the attendant.

"That's quite a boy you have there," she said , smiling.

"Yeah," I told her grimly. "I get that a lot."