Window or no window, Barbara reached for her purse where she kept a couple of pictures.
"He's talking now," she said with quiet excitement as she dug around in her bag, "not complete sentences, mind, just key words. Sometimes he'll string a few together but not like we do. And he loves to pull out the pots and pans when we're not looking -- here."
The two pictures in her purse were small and simple; the first of which was taken a few days after John was born. He was in Ian's arms half asleep. The grin Ian wore was certainly that of a proud father. Barbara's second picture was just of John surrounded by pots and pans. He wore a grin that someone might have said belong to both Ian and Barbara. John's eyes were of the same blue that Ian's were made out of, and his thick hair was clearly inherited from Barbara.
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"He's talking now," she said with quiet excitement as she dug around in her bag, "not complete sentences, mind, just key words. Sometimes he'll string a few together but not like we do. And he loves to pull out the pots and pans when we're not looking -- here."
The two pictures in her purse were small and simple; the first of which was taken a few days after John was born. He was in Ian's arms half asleep. The grin Ian wore was certainly that of a proud father. Barbara's second picture was just of John surrounded by pots and pans. He wore a grin that someone might have said belong to both Ian and Barbara. John's eyes were of the same blue that Ian's were made out of, and his thick hair was clearly inherited from Barbara.