1978
There was very, very odd weather in what should have been the spring of 1978. Instead of a light spring breeze and flowers, there was a snowstorm. In April, of all times, too!
The day Molly respectively had her fourth and fifth children, the harsh winter wind was drafting throughout the house, and all three of the elder children were bundled up in jumper after jumper.
Two little boys with a dusting of red hair sat cradled in their mothers' arms, both quickly falling asleep.
"Fred," Molly said, smiling down softly at the little boy on the left. Molly handed him the one on the right.
"And George," finished Arthur, rocking his newborn son back and forth.