The Way We Were

The Way We Record

"Hey look!" Marcy pointed. She reached out and plucked the Spanish style hat off the pile and perched it on her head.

Mal took pictures of her. "It looks nice. You should get it."

Marcy looked at the price tag. "Okay." She handed notes over to the vender, who nodded to her and put the hat on Mickey's head.

Mal took a picture of her. "Where to next?"

They were wandering around the wharf at an outside mall by the river on one of their many excursions to the city of London. They spent time with many family members but they liked taking walks with the twins to see the sights and make memories together as a family.

Marcy screwed up her face in thought. "Do you want shoes?"

"Shoes?" He frowned in confusion.

She pointed. "He's selling shoes."

Mal turned to view the man trying to unload his cargo of faux Italian shoes. "Nah. Ready to go to the bookstore?"

"I want to say yes but we should spend some time in the sun." She turned to view the tables they were walking by. "Hey look. A scarf."

"Is that even considered a scarf if it's so long and wide? You can tie that thing around your waist."

"Are you calling me fat?" She looked at him sharply.

His eyes widened. "No!"

"Because it's not my fault I'm shaped like this! I eat right, work out and I did push out two of your kids!"

"I am not calling you fat! You know I think you're perfect!" He dropped his camera around his neck and took her hands.

She watched him warily.

"I promise. You're the only one for me. I like you from the top of your curly head to your green painted little toes."

She looked down at her flip-flop enclosed feet. She wiggled her toes. "Good. I like you, too."

He kissed her. "Are you sure you're alright?"

She checked her feelings like their therapist taught her then nodded. "Yes. So should I get the scarf?"

He let her go. "It's pink. And orange. You hate pink and orange."

"But your favorite color is orange."

He smirked. "Get it."

Marcy paid for it then tucked the scarf around Mickey and rubbed it against the eleven month old's soft cheek. "Isn't it soft, Mickey?"

"Mama."

Marcy's eyes widened as she looked at her daughter in surprise. "What'd you say?"

"Mama." The little girl clapped.

Marcy raised from squatting by the pram and waved her hand to get her husband's attention from where he was taking pictures of the riverbed. "Mal! Mal! Mickey just said her first word!"

Mal whirled around. "What?"

"Mickey just said Mama!" She pointed to the baby and jumped on her toes.

Mal switched his focus from stills to video and walked over. "Say it again, Mick. Talk to Daddy."

"Mama!" Mickey babbled. "Mama!"

Marcy picked her up and danced with her in a tight circle. "My baby can say my name!"

Mal watched them for a moment before training the camera on his son. "Can you say Dada?"

Mally just smiled up at him.

"It's okay, junior." Mal ran a hand over the boy's inky curls and refocused on his sister and mom. "Say it again, Mickey!"