There's us feeding the twins in the special care nursery, when Owen and Sabrina are still so small and their features so indistinct it's a little hard to tell one wrapped-up bundle from the other. There's Rhianon at two and three, singing songs to order. (One, two, three strikes you're out at the OLD . . . BALL . . .GAME!) We can see generations of cousins riding their tricycles and Hot Wheels down the slope off the side of our Maine house, heading precipitously toward the water. Kids spraying water at each other, painting Mommy's face and doing her hair, running races, performing home-created plays--lots of good, everyday times.
More nostalgic are the films of Leo's mother and grandmother feeding and patting the twins; my father in suit and tie on the floor playing with Rhianon; my mother reading to three little kids at once. Of those three, only Leo's grandmother is still alive and living in her own house in the Philippines at 95.
It was a lot of effort for Leo to find the right attachments and connections to finally set up this conversion, which he's been talking about for a couple of years. All I can say is, it's worth it! The kids love looking at old films of themselves, though Owen shakes his head and says, "I keep seeing more evidence that we're not a normal family." As for me, seeing all these pictures of the kids when they were little makes me walk around with a silly smile on my face feeling very fond of my family.