There were few hopeful stories out there at that point. Very little to balance out all the scary possibilities. But one photo, that of a young girl with PWS in a little play house, stuck with me. She was smiling, her head cocked to the side. The caption read "E frolicking with her preschool buddies". Thirteen years later I can still conjure her thick dark hair, her deep brown eyes. I can still remember repeating that caption -- frolicking with her preschool buddies -- over and over to myself, trying to drown out the nightmares.
Oscar, 15 months, pulling books off the shelf
Oscar, 22 months, playing peek-a-boo
Oscar, 28 months, dancing to street music in San Francisco
Oscar, 4.5 years, riding a scooter
Oscar, age five, diving into the pool (or was it a belly flop?)