"Personalities." Miranda then laughed at her idea. "No, that would be silly."
"That's not a bad idea, Mom," Evan said, finding the idea appealing for some reasons.
"Seriously, Evan?" Miranda asked. She femininely raised her arm and gently lowered it back towards her leg. She kept her wrist limp and causally bounced her crossed leg over the other. "Why would you ever want my personality Evan?"
Evan pulled another dinning room chair over and sat close to his mother. His legs spread wide, like any teenager, showed dirt and mud. Evidence that Evan hadn't showered. He got real close to his mom and said, "Just for the day mom. It will be as if we are acting like the other."
This made Miranda laugh, then she got concerned. "Evan, why would you want the personality of your mother?"
"Come on, Mom. You just said how much you doubt this would work." Evan said as he stood up.
Miranda still sat down in her chair with her legs crossed. She nervously pulled at the hem of her skirt and said, "Okay, let's trade personalities for the day."
As the words came from her lips, there was a large gust of wind through the house. "Was that it?" Miranda asked. Evan patted himself down to see if he was alright.
"I suppose so, but I don't feel any different." He said as he looked around. He walked over to the kitchen sink swaying his hips.
"Holy F***!" Miranda yelled as she noticed his sway. She quickly uncrossed her legs and started to chuckle. She was laughing so hard she let out a snort. Something Evan would do if he found something funny.
"What's so funny young... man?" Evan knew that description wasn't accurate for his own mother, but it just felt right to say. He placed his hand on his hip as he spun around.
"You're walking like me Mom... I mean Evan." Miranda quickly checked herself. Her legs were now spread wide. She scratched her inner thigh, not caring as she flashed her panties to her son. As Miranda stood up her blouse became untucked and wobbled on her heels. "This is crazy dude!"
Miranda couldn't believe the words she was using. "'Dude?!' Honestly, Mother, you couldn't find a more eloquent word for this occasion?" Evan said keeping his wrists limp. He femininely giggled as he watched his mother examine her wardrobe.
"I think we have each other's mannerisms as well as personality." Miranda said, trying not to trip and fall in her own heels. She attempted to steady herself, but clumsily fell by the table.
Evan rushed over to her and bent down at his knees to help. "Oh dear, are you alright?"
Miranda pulled her heels off, then brushed her son away. "Yeah, yeah, man, I'm good. Just back off." Her skirt inched up during the fall. She now looked at her own light pink panties and sneered. "I hate that color," she moaned as she got up. She dusted herself off and...
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