Little children, headache; big children, heartache. ~Italian Proverb

Standing in front of the mirror, Erin gave a frustrated grunt and tried to fasten the skirt around her waist. She'd considered sweat pants and a dirty T-shirt. Just to spite David's request for something pretty.

She gave the zipper another yank. Nothing. Not even a budge. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. Nothing.

"Dammit!" she swore and attempted a fourth time. But no matter how much she tugged and pulled, it wasn't going to fit. In a word, her favorite skirt was history. And she wanted to cry.

"Dressing up is supposed to be fun," she muttered in defeat. The cell phone chiming from the bedside table drew Erin from her pity party. She picked it up and read the text message with a smile. Paige was on her way home. By the 17 year old's logic, 'On the way' could be twelve feet from the driveway or twelve miles.

Erin looked out the window and watched the little white car pull up.

"Don't text and drive." Erin cautioned under her breath – not that the advice was heeded. When the front door slammed and footsteps echoed up the stairs, she called out, "What did you forget?"

"Paul broke his flip-flop." Paige called, with determined steps through the hallway.

"How did that happen?" Erin asked, eying her reflection. She gave the skirt zipper another stubborn, pathetic pull.

"Playing soccer. Where are you headed, got a hot date?" Paige asked from the doorway. She eyed the pile of discarded clothes on her mother's bed.

"Hot date?" Erin scoffed. "Sure. If that's what you want call it."

Paige moved further into the room, "What would you call it?"

"A free meal."

"Ha-ha!" the teen muttered with sarcasm, "And none of this will work, you know," she stated, eying the clothes on the bed. "It's a date, not a funeral. Why wear all black?"

"I've gotten...fat and I'd like to hide it." Erin huffed. Fat. That was one way to describe it. The alternate scared the life out of her.

"Fat?" Paige cast a suspicious glance toward her mother's abdomen. It didn't take a profiler to see the teen wasn't buying her fib, "Is that what you want to call it? Did you talk to Agent Rossi?"

Erin nodded, relieved at the change of subject, "He…wants to meet with us on Saturday. My date requested something pretty, and nothing fits."

Paige moved toward the closet and started thumbing through the hangers. "Us?" she asked from inside the closet. The sound of hangers shifting on the metal rod gave an ominous sound.

"What?" Erin turned toward her, holding her skirt closed. "What did you say?"

Paige ducked her head out, "You said he wants to meet with us," then went back to her task.

Shaking her head, Erin answered, "You didn't think I'd let you go alone, did you?"

"Why not?" Paige's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh My God! He's not a creepo perv, is he?"

Erin chuckled at her daughter's reaction. Oh, if only she knew. "Far from it."

"Just fat my ass!" All color drained from Paige's face as she turned around with a maternity dress in hand. The truth slowly began to dawn on her.

"Paige-I...That was from-" Erin tried to find the words, but how did a parent go about telling her teenage daughter that she had gotten careless and slept with a man she wasn't married to, and ended up pregnant? Talk about irony.

"Two weeks ago!" Paige shrieked in horror, staring at the receipt stapled to the tag, "How could you do this to us?"

"Look." Erin started, "We're going to talk about this, all of us. And I'll tell you everything, but right now-"

"You have a date. Knocked up, with a date." Paige muttered, rolling her eyes. "I'm going back to Dad's," she whined. "This is so embarrassing!"

"Paige, you can stop with the histrionics, please. Just calm down and we can talk about this." Erin reached for her daughter's hand but was rebuffed as the teen drew back. It was clear in Paige's blue eyes that she was forever contaminated.

"Paul needs his flip flops." Paige stomped towards the door and threw her hands in the air. "Don't you realize what this means? You can't be a single parent at forty-five!"

"Come on, Paige, cut me some slack," Erin 's tone was equally frustrated. It was bad enough having wild pregnancy hormones, now she had to deal with teen angst. "It's not like I planned for this."

"Right. Okay, Mom. Just like you didn't plan to get caught with a liquor store hidden in your desk!"

Paige threw back with as much venom as she could muster. By the way Erin turned ghostly white, her words had hit their mark.

Erin sputtered for a response. "You didn't need to know about that-"

"Why not! Just like I don't need to know about this, right? This isn't some government secret you can just sweep under the rug when you come home, you know! Do you even know the guy who did this to you! I've heard of addicts trading one addiction for another, but sex!"

Erin put her hand up, silencing the interruption, "That's enough, young lady. I've always told you everything relevant to you and this family," she continued her tone left no room for argument. "You can't deny that, Paige."

It was true, from the moment her children were born, Erin treated them like little adults. The only things they didn't know, about their home life were the things they didn't need to be part of: her alcoholism and a marriage that crumbled around her feet were the two foremost on her list.

"What will my friends think? And you are supposed to be a role model," Paige's chin trembled as she tried to hold back her emotions. "I want to go to Dad's."

"Not until we talk. Please." God! Was she begging permission from her own teenage daughter? She had not only fallen into the proverbial rabbit's hole, but she was hitting bottom…fast!

"I don't know."

"We'll talk, I promise," Erin repeated, she watched her for daughter's expression to soften. Same jutted chin and cold stare she used on the BAU was thrown back at her. It was almost like looking in a mirror. "But for now, Paul needs his flip flops."

Tears gone, Paige picked up the rubber sandals before flashing her mother a defiant sneer, "Fine we'll talk."

Blinking back hot tears, Erin sat down on the side of the bed. A second later the sound of tearing fabric filled her ears. Then the dam broke.

Could this day get any worse?