"Honey, we're home!"

Bruce looked up from his tablet as Heather, his wife, and Emily, their daughter, came in from the garage. Their arms were laden with shopping bags and they both looked exhausted, but Emily's face was lit with joy.

He smiled and set the tablet aside as his daughter came over for a hug. "Those poor 'back-to-school' sales! I hope you left something for everyone else!" he said, laughing.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, dramatically. "Well, we didn't buy the whole mall. Some of the stores had stuff for boys."

Her mother came up behind her, tickled her in the side, then stepped past her for a kiss from her husband. "Alright, Emmy, let's get this stuff to your room. I want to see some of those outfits all put together on you. You can give your father and I a fashion show."

"Sure!" she said, then ran down the hall to her room with half her prizes, her mother close behind with the remainder. Sounds of giggling, chatter, and crumpling shopping bags soon came drifting back up the hallway. Bruce picked the tablet back up and returned to the job-hunting site he'd been browsing before.

Soon enough, he was distracted from yet another unsuitable listing by Heather's return. She winked at him, stepped aside from the doorway to the hall, and said, in her best announcer voice, "Presenting, North Valley Elementary School's newest third-grader, Emily!"

He dutifully applauded as Emily stepped out of the hallway in one of her new outfits, a green top and a grey, pleated skirt. She started doing her best impression of a model's catwalk strut, but stopped and pouted when her parents both started chuckling.

"Sorry, kiddo," her mother said, stifling laughter, "but that walk won’t really work for a few more years. Now give your father a twirl and then let's see that blue dress."

Emily did a quick pirouette, receiving the appropriate compliments in turn, then bounced back down the hall to change.

"So, how much did you two wind up buying after all?" Bruce asked cautiously, as Heather took the opportunity to grab them sodas from the fridge.

"Less than it looked coming in. A shirt here, a skirt there. Maybe three or four outfits' worth, total, plus a new backpack and a couple pairs of shoes. And almost all of it was on sale, of course." She plopped down next to him on the couch, then snuggled under his arm. "Don't worry, I stayed inside the budget we set, and it means so much to her to have some new things. We were good girls, aside from the milkshakes at lunch."

That got a wry smile from Bruce, which turned into a genuine one when Emily returned, now sporting a blue dress with white polka-dots. She walked out from the hall and gave another spin in front of them, causing it to flare out around her. Giggling, she spun again, then a third time. "Alright, you!" Heather finally said, smiling. "I want to see those jeans on you. I'll need to hem them tonight if you want to wear them for your first day tomorrow."

"Okay, Mom!" she said, running back down the hall to her room.

Bruce stretched out as best he could, wincing as pain shot through his leg. Heather started to rise, but he shifted position again and guided her back to his side. Sipping from his soda he began reminiscing about his own school days. It was so much simpler being a kid, he thought. It hadn't seemed like that at the time, of course, but now he knew otherwise. Heather was bringing in their only paycheck, while he received a meager disability check and scrambled to find something he could do since the accident. He sighed and sipped at his soda again.

"Hey, you," Heather said, craning her neck to look at him. "I know that sigh. We'll get through this. We've got enough for now, and you'll find something soon enough. Don't worry." Any reply was cut off by their daughter returning in a sparkly, pink top and a pair of too-long jeans.

"Nice shirt!" Bruce said, raising his soda to his daughter in a toast.

"Thanks, Daddy!" she replied, twirling in place.

"Okay Emmy, c'mere and let me grab a few safety pins so I can mark where that needs to be hemmed." Heather disentangled herself from her husband, then led Emily off towards the laundry room.

Bruce sighed again, watching them leave. "It would be so much easier to be a schoolkid again," he thought. "No bills, no mortgage, no job to worry about, just homework and schoolyard politics..." Laughter echoed from the laundry room. He shook his head, then grabbed his cane and empty soda can and carefully stood up. Slowly, carefully, he made his way over to the fridge and began studying its contents. As much as he wanted a beer at the moment, the painkillers he was taking didn't play well with alcohol. He grabbed another soda just in time to see Emily running back to her room with a towel wrapped around her waist in place of the jeans she'd been wearing.

"For the record, taking the jeans off in the laundry room was her idea, not mine," Heather said, laughing, as she walked into the kitchen with the jeans over her shoulder. "What do you want to do for dinner?"

"Whatever you like, hon. I'm not very hungry, to be honest, so just make what you want."

"Spaghetti and meatballs?"

"Sure, sounds good."

Bruce settled himself onto a stool by the counter, while Heather set about pulling the meal together. Soon enough, she called down the hallway to their daughter, who emerged wearing the skirt and top she’d originally left the house in that morning. Dinner was served, and the three sat around the kitchen table and tucked in.

Emily led the conversation at dinner, gushing about her new clothes, her new classroom, teacher, and classmates (she'd met them all last week at an orientation day), and all of the classes she would be taking. Heather did her best to keep up with her, but Bruce sat quietly, idly picking at the small plate of food he'd served himself.

He covered a sigh by taking a bite of spaghetti, and looked over at his daughter. Chewing slowly, he mused on what had him so down that evening. Even after the accident, he'd loved his daughter's enthusiasm about almost everything. The way she was gung-ho about every new experience could be almost infectious. So why was tonight rubbing him such the wrong way? "I'm jealous." The thought hit him like a slap to the face. He had to force himself to swallow the over-chewed spaghetti before he choked on it, then slowly took a sip of soda to wash it down. A quick glance at his dining companions showed neither had noticed, so he took another bite and came back at the issue.

"I'm jealous of my daughter. Why? I have a wonderful wife, my daughter's a joy. Sure, things have been hard lately, but they'll get better eventually. Why am I jealous of her?" The answer came to him quickly. "Well, why shouldn't I be jealous? She's young, healthy, brilliant, popular, and cute, too. She has her whole life ahead of her. She's not a broken down ex-construction worker with a busted leg scrambling to find something to keep his family fed. And here she is starting something brand new and exciting, while I mope around at home poking job sites..."

He couldn't hide the sigh this time, and it was enough to break even his daughter's stride. "Are you okay, Daddy? You seem sad."

"Yeah, honey, sorry. Just thinking about stuff."

"I'm sorry," she said, looking downcast.

"What? Why?"

"Mom's going to be at work, I'll be at school, and you're going to be here all by yourself."

"Oh, don't worry about it, kiddo. I'll be fine. You have fun tomorrow and I'll be waiting to pick you up right when school's out."

She looked dubious. "Okay, Daddy, if you say so."

He gave a tired smile. "I do, hon. Don't you worry about lil' old me. I'm sure I'll find something to keep myself busy." He winked at her, getting a giggle in return.

Heather chimed in, "All done with your dinner, Em? Good. Go put your plate in the sink, then take a shower before bed."

"A shower?"

"Yes! If you don't shower tonight, you'll have to take one tomorrow morning, and then you'll start your first day with wet hair."

"Okay...." Their daughter cleared her dishes and slunk out down the hall, leaving her parents at the table.

"So, what's got you down, love?" Heather asked.

"I..." He sighed. "Sorry, hon, I don't really want to talk about it right now."

She reached out, grabbed her husband's hand, and gave it a squeeze. "Hey. You'll find something. Give my uncle a call like I suggested. He's always looking for new sales guys."

"Honey, I love you, but do you really think I could sell... whatever it is that his company makes?"

"I think you might be surprised."

Bruce sighed. "I dunno, I'll think about it."

"Alright, that's all I ask. Are you done?"

"Yeah, sorry. It tasted great; I'm just not very hungry tonight."

"No worries, love. Why don't you go get in bed? I'll clean up and get Emmy sorted and then join you."

"Yeah, sure."

Rising slowly from the table, he grabbed his cane and made his way slowly to the bedroom. He plopped down on the bed, winced, then slowly began easing his pants off. His left leg was riddled with scars, bright and fresh, from his mid-thigh down almost to his ankle. A load had broken loose from a crane on a construction site almost six months ago, and his leg had been caught under it, smashing it almost to the point of amputation. As it was, the knee joint had been replaced entirely, and several other plates had been put in to hold the other bones in his leg in place while they healed. He'd never have full use of his leg again, but he still had it, so he counted himself lucky, more or less.

Insurance had covered most of the medical bills and was providing some disability now, but it wouldn't last forever, and he'd never again be up to doing the sort of large-scale construction work that he'd done for the past ten years. His company’s accident review panel had determined the cause was “operator error”, absolved themselves of liability, and had passed the case off to his insurance to deal with. The company did offer him an office job shuffling papers, but the paperwork was the part of the job he'd hated most, and the thought of accepting a handout like that hurt his pride, so he'd politely declined. Three months later, though, he was starting to regret that.

He blinked, and realized he'd been sitting on the bed in his boxers, staring off into space. He carefully pulled on his pajamas, then hobbled over to the en-suite bathroom to brush his teeth. That done, he downed a pain pill from the bottle by the sink and washed it down with water. He tried to avoid them during the day, but on many nights, a pill or two was the only thing that let him sleep. Shuffling back to bed, he climbed under the covers and, not in the mood to read, flipped on the TV in the corner. There was a football game on, and he watched it idly.

By the time Heather quietly came into the bedroom, the football game had ended and Bruce had switched over to a sitcom. He switched off the TV as she began undressing, and she looked over her shoulder at him, smiled playfully, then began making a bit of a show of it, slowly pulling off her top and undoing her bra. He smiled and gave a quiet wolf whistle, which got her laughing. Even after thirteen years of marriage, they were still very much in love, and he tried to take every opportunity to let his wife know how much he appreciated her--all of her.

"I'm just going to take a quick shower, love. Want to join me?"

"Nah, thanks, I'll shower in the morning."

"Alright, back in a bit."

Bruce switched the TV back on, but rather than watching it, he just stretched out and stared at the ceiling, letting his mind wander. He woke with a start when Heather climbed into the bed next to him. The lights and TV had both been turned off.

"Oh, sorry, love, I was trying not to wake you."

"Mmm... s'okay."

She cuddled up next to him, tracing a hand up and down his chest. "So, did you like what you saw earlier?"

"You know I did."

Her hand drifted lower. "Want to see it again?"

Bruce sighed and hugged her closer, then kissed her on the forehead. "Not tonight, love, sorry. I took a pill earlier."

"Mmm... I'll take a rain-check, then." She snuggled down, using his chest as a pillow.

He stroked a hand through her hair. "How's Emily doing?"

"Nervous, excited. She took a bit to settle down. She's worried about you, you know."

"Yeah. She's a good kid."

"She's an amazing kid. She gets that from her dad."

He tried not to sigh, but failed. "...yeah..."

Without lifting her head from him, Heather reached an arm around and hugged him. "We'll get through, love. We've come so far already."

"I know."

"I love you, hon."

"I love you, too."

She hugged him again. "G'night, love."

He kissed the top of her head, craning his neck a bit to reach. "G'night..." Bruce laid his head back, closed his eyes, and drifted off, thoughts of his daughter wandering through his mind as he fell asleep.

---

"Hmmm... What's this? Oh, no, this won't do at all... Let's see here..."

---

"Maddie! It's time to wake up!" Heather's voice calling out woke Bruce. He cracked his eyes open, looking over to the alarm clock on his nightstand. Except his clock wasn't there, nor his nightstand. In fact, he was in a completely different bed. The bed he shared with his wife wasn't pink, and the walls of their bedroom weren't purple. He blinked, rubbed at his eyes, then noticed that his hands were much smaller than they should be.

Suddenly, Heather sat on the edge of the bed, startling him. He rolled over to face her, then realized she looked much bigger than he was used to. She smiled gently, and ran a hand through his hair--it was much longer than it should've been. "Good morning, Madison!" she said, softly. "Time to get ready for your first day of kindergarten!"

What Bruce wanted to say was, "Heather, what's going on? Why are you calling me Madison? Why am I in this room? Why am I a little kid? What's going on!?" What actually came out of his mouth, in the voice of a young girl, was a sleepy "Good morning, Mommy!"

Suddenly, a thought that was not his own entered his mind. "Sorry, I'll explain in a minute. Just roll with it for now."

Heather, oblivious, brushed her fingers through "Maddie"'s hair again. "I need to go get your sister moving. Get dressed and I'll have breakfast ready once you're done, ok?"

"Okay, Mommy."

Heather kissed her on the forehead, then rose and left, pulling the door closed behind her.

"Okay, WHAT is going ON?!?" Bruce thought, angrily, as he pushed back the covers. His body was a four- or five-year-old girl's, wearing a pink nightgown with various Disney princesses all over it.

"Head over to the mirror and I'll explain," came the response in his mind.

"Mirror?"

"Inside of the closet door."

Bruce, or Maddie, rose from the bed, and took a look around the room for the first time. Judging by the layout of the windows and closet, this was the small third bedroom that they used for storage and various craft projects. Except it was, without a doubt, a little girl's bedroom. "Madison" was spelled out in brightly painted letters on the wall above the bed, the floor was littered with toys and dolls, and the furniture had been replaced with a little girl's hand-me-down bedroom set in white. He walked over to the closet and opened the door, finding a full-length mirror hanging inside it.

The face looking back at him was obviously his daughter. Emily had always taken after Heather, but the cute face he saw now had definitely inherited his own features. The girl had fine, dark hair, mussed and tangled from bed, and bright, brown eyes. She thankfully didn't have all of his nose--his old beak would've looked out of place on her--but the resemblance was clear to see.

He took another minute or two to study the girl's features, twisting back and forth to see more of her body, then thought, "So, you can explain?"

That same not-his thought responded, "Yes." Another person stepped into view in the mirror. Bruce whirled around, but there was no one behind him. He spun back, and looked up at the woman whose reflection stood behind his. She was tall, serene, almost regal. If Peter Jackson had seen her before making the "Lord of the Rings" movies, Cate Blanchett would have never been cast as Galadriel. "Hello, Bruce."

"Ummm..."

The reflection giggled, and the thought of it echoed through his head. It rather spoiled the regal look, but in a good way. "Sorry to spring this on you, but I wanted to have a chat before I finished up."

"What's going on?"

"Three wishes."

"What?" Bruce's mind conjured up the image of a blue genie.

"Ah, no. Quite the opposite. Three wishes brought me here, and I'm fulfilling them."

"But I..."

"Not just you, my dear." The reflection smirked. "You wanted to be a kid again."

"Well, yeah, but..."

She cut him off. "And your wife and your daughter both wanted you to be happy again."

Bruce paused, staring at his new reflection in the mirror. He had been thinking along those lines the night before, even if he didn’t entirely want to admit it to himself.

”But what about my old life? What about Heather? I don’t want to leave her alone.

”Don’t worry about that.”

”But…”

The reflection smiled, and placed a hand on his (her?) small shoulder. He didn’t feel a touch, but there was a reassuring warmth. ”There have been other changes made tonight. Your daddy, Bruce, didn’t survive the accident. He was killed instantly.” She winked at him, then continued before he could interrupt. “However, it was found that the accident was caused by improperly maintained equipment, and his company was found guilty of negligence. Between his life insurance and the settlement with his former employers, your family will be well taken care. As for Heather, we had a chat like this one before she came to wake you. She doesn’t remember it consciously any more, of course, but, deep down, she knows Bruce loved her very much and wanted her to be happy. And now she has two wonderful daughters to keep her company, one of whom reminds her of her beloved husband quite a bit and in all the best ways.”

”Still, I don’t want her to be… y’know… alone.” He was surprised to see a blush on his round cheeks. It was something he'd considered many times before, though, both before and after the accident, and he'd decided that he would rather have his wife be happy with someone else than spend the rest of her life alone, grieving him.

The reflection chuckled. “That’s very considerate of you, and just what I would have expected. You have such a good heart. Tell you what: I’ll keep an eye out. If I find a warm, loving man, maybe already a father as well, and maybe grieving his own loss and in need of a friend, I’ll see if I can pull a few strings, have some paths cross. Come to think of it, I can think of one or two off the top of my head. Now, anything else?”

"Well, umm, why am I a girl?"

"Well, to be honest, I only mentioned two wishes. Emily very much wanted a little sister."

Before Bruce could react, the reflection winked, bent over, and kissed him on the back of his head.

Madison blinked, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Suddenly remembering what her mommy had said, she shucked out of her nightgown and undies (leaving them in a pile on the floor) and pulled on the clothes they had picked out the night before. It was her very first day of school, and she couldn’t wait to get started.

(The story continues in "Three Wishes, Epilogue"!)