Sometimes on the way to the circus, or the car, or around the pond, the three kids walk side by side, their heads bent together, their words a kind of pigeon murmur, alto and undecipherable, and Gerry and I will exchange a half smile that means, my God, how did this happen? The alchemy of parenthood is so mysterious. It can’t be true that we were somehow responsible for creating these three unique and remarkable human beings. We didn’t know enough, do enough. There were endless diaper changes, baths, books, Band-Aids, doctor visits, parent-teacher conferences, plays and athletic events and
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