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Bridgewater, NJ
OCTOBER 2005
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If you're a show-off like I am, one of the great benefits of hanging around toddlers is that you have a ready-made audience—and if you're around triplets, you've got laughter in stereo (triplicate, really). It took nothing more than a game of peekaboo to have the Catrambones' boys eating out of my hand—literally, you hold a few animal crackers in your hand, and they dive-bomb you. The boys were just a little too young to work as a team, but I predict that by now they are partners in crime. One of them, Matthew, had the look of a man who has figured out how to program the VCR, although I saw no proof of that.
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The story was originally going to be called "What's in the Water?" so on my way back home I had the Catrambone dad, Jeff, stop at a gas station so I could get a sample of water to test. (It was just a joke; we knew there was nothing special about the water in this zip code.)
I happened to collect the water in a specimen cup normally used for sperm collection; I had a few extras left over from my own days going through in vitro fertilization. Anyway, I got home, left the water sample on my desk, and a few days later found one of my three-year-old twins, Henry, had screwed off the top and was drinking the water. My husband, who had seen him do it, remarked, "Glad we're no longer using those for their original purpose."
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Not quirky, really, so much as downright bizarre, at least to this slobola mother of twins. The Catrambones and their house were perfect. I mean, Martha Stewart-level perfect. Lisa was beautifully coiffed and groomed; the boys were in matching, miraculously unstained Ralph Lauren sweaters; the nap of the living room rug all went in the same direction. I asked Lisa how she did it, and she regarded me cheerfully, "Did what?" not quite seeming to know what I meant. I left the house wondering if there was a staff of 20 hiding behind the vacuumed curtains.
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