250 Words on Twins

[I try to start my day writing 250 words on anything. I’ll post one every Tuesday until I run out of good ones.]

My adult daughters are identical twins, and I apologize to them for mentioning it.

My wife Karen and I have standard answers to the usual questions. Yes, we can tell them apart—most of the time. Having two kids at once felt more than twice as hard when they were babies but might have been easier later. Etc.

Our girls have their own standard answers to the usual questions. Telepathy? No.* Different interests? Yes. Same taste in food? No. Same friends? Some. However, they can’t answer “What’s it like?” because they have nothing to compare it to.

We seldom dressed them alike and, when they were old enough to dress themselves, “seldom” became “never.” They rarely pretended to be each other. They style their hair differently. One’s left-handed, the other’s right-handed. 

They also drew so much attention when they were adorable blonde toddlers that today any notice paid to “the twin thing” makes them squirm in anguish. 

Hence my apology.

Most of the time I don’t really think about it, but once in a while I’ll just sit across the room gazing at them in amazement and think, “Huh! Twins! Damn!” 

I also believe they sometimes enjoy it. First, for a sibling bond closer than most of us will ever experience. Second, for the befuddlement on people’s faces when they figure it out, particularly if it’s someone like a long-time acquaintance who didn’t know.  

I imagine it’s a bit like being able to flex a little superpower whenever you want.

*Not that they'll admit to, anyway.

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