We recently purchased a triple stroller. We love it; it’s like a Ferrari! No, it’s not really though they do share several characteristics: both Ferraris and our Peg Perego Triplette share Italian origins and both attract stares and leave gaping maws in their wake.
We rely on the Triplette when we go out with our kids. As we pass, we hear voices holler. Oh my god, triplets! or I’ve never seen triplets before! Their eyes are as big as saucers and their smiles are as wide as the sky. They look happy and excited, like kids on Christmas morning. My husband and I, the Grinches in the triplet-themed Christmas of their lives, then give them the truth: nope, twins and a toddler. They admirably try to mask their sense of disappointment which, at least in the abstract, I appreciate. Despite their attempts at reassuring us that, hey, twins and a toddler is as cool as triplets, words of our former paediatrician echo in our ears…
He once said to us, “I hate to break it to you guys, but twins are common these days. It’s borrrring. Now triplets! – that is something special.”
Damn you, Doctor Stan, damn you! And damn you, Triplette.