Timothy stood in the newly refurbished nursery staring at the paintings on the wall. It seemed odd seeing his Mum so young and to see himself as a child.



Now he had come full circle and it was him would soon be a father. Lucy was now eight months pregnant and he was starting to realise just how much his life was about to change. The latest scan had also revealed that Lucy was carrying twins. Happily with their comfortable financial situation they would be able to employ some help if they needed it.


Timothy and Lucy did their best to make the most of their time together whilst it was still just the two of them and Timothy found himself more and more in love with the amazing woman who was to be the mother of his children.



He sometimes found himself feeling sad that his Mum hadn’t lived long enough to meet her grandchildren. He knew she would have loved to spoil them rotten.


Walking downstairs he found Lucy in the small bathroom and pulled her to him. “You’re amazing you know,” he said smiling at her “I am so blessed to have you, your gonna make the best Mum.” Lucy smiled back.




So it was two weeks later that Lucy, who had been lying in bed some time trying to ignore the pain got up and woke up Timothy who mumbled something incoherent.




“No, get up,” said Lucy raising her voice, “I think we need to go to the hospital.” Timothy, opening one eye saw his wife clutching her stomach in pain and jumped out of bed. Lucy, even through the pain was amused to see him dashing around all in a flutter. But they made it to the hospital in plenty of time and ten hours later the twins were born.


Lucy had given birth to two little girls, who they had named Abigail and Amy. They both had their Mum’s jet black hair and had the startling Wintersmith eyes much to Timothy’s delight.



Generation three was now here and Timothy wondered what the future held for their growing family.