By Margaret Burin
It’s a bittersweet moment in many parents’ lives — watching their babies put on their crisp uniform and over-sized backpacks to embark on their new five-day-a-week adventure. But any feeling of vulnerability is tripled for Helen Dimotakis, who never thought she’d see her children grow up.
Eight different cereal boxes are laid out on the kitchen bench, ready for the troops to shout their orders.
Toast orders come in from the lounge cum rumpus room; cream cheese with peanut butter for John, honey for Elly and fruit toast for Emmanuel.
Helen tries to get John to eat, while Emmanuel asks again why his letter didn’t arrive from the prep teacher.
His brother and sister each got one sent out just after their orientation day, accompanied by some fairy dust to place under their pillow for first-day jitters — but his must still be in transit.
Where does the time go?
All around the country this week, parents are questioning just when their babies happened to grow up.
Many of those “firsts” seem like only yesterday.
The first day of school is a promise of their growing independence.
For Helen and her husband Ross it brings both amazement and a slight bit of relief.
Triplets are hard work.