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When the kids were born, Tonys biggest treat was to change them, burp them, hold
them and give them a bath. That's
PAPA
TONY By Janet Leigh
i
DOUBT THAT in all the history of fatherdom any proud daddy has taken more pictures of his children — and in more farflung corners of the world and from more odd positions — than my husband has. To watch Tony follow our daughters, threeyear-old Kelly Lee and one-year-old Jamie, with cameras dangling from all sides of him, he looks like a fugitive from a Rube Goldberg cartoon.
There isn't a mood or a phase in their development that Tony hasn't captured on film — the first step, the first tooth, the first haircut, the first diaper change, the first spoonful of food, the first dress. He's taken jillions of pictures of them. No matter where Tony is making a movie, the walls of his dressing room are fairly papered with snapshots of the babies. We have literally hundreds of albums downstairs in our house.
Yet Tony is not one of those fathers who badgers his friends, whips out his wallet, and insists that they exclaim over the latest snapshots of his offspring.
Not that he wouldn't. It's simply that he never carries a wallet, so he has no way of keeping pictures of Kelly and Jamie on his person.
However, that doesn't mean Tony's friends are safe from his paternal pride. He buttonholes them with something even better than pictures. He stops them on the street, beards them in their offices, grabs them on the set, and sometimes even calls them long distance to announce with tears of laughter: "Wait till you hear what Kelly did this time!"
Everything she says gets reported to everybody. Anything she does everybody knows. Tony goes so wild over some of her exploits that he tells them again and again. One that still breaks him up every time he relates it concerns the time he was lying on the couch in the den, watching television, and Kelly romped into the room.
Tony had had a hard day at the studio, and he was tired. As far as he was concerned, little Kelly couldn't have picked a more touching moment to come over to him, as she did, run her hand soothingly over his face, and say, "Close your eyes, Daddy, and rest."
He was all choked up. He thought it such a tender gesture for a three-year-old child, so giving. Of course, being putty in Kelly's hands at any time. Tony did as she bade.
It was only because he was so overcome with affection that he cheated a little and peeked out of the corner of one eye. If he hadn't he would have missed out on one of the thrills of his life. You see, although on occasion it takes great effort, Tony tries conscientiously to cooperate with me in enforcing various house rules with the children. Kelly can twist him around her little finger, and Tony loves being twisted. But he's also adult enough to realize that certain prohibitions, painful as he may find them to impose, are for Kelly's benefit.
This is all by way of saying that Kelly knows she is not to have any candy or nuts unless she gets permission. Consent usually is forthcoming unless she hasn't had her
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