Sometimes the twins are just adorable.
(If you really don’t want to read more mushy stuff about the twins, you can just skip this one.)
(And no, as far as I know, “twinnings” isn’t a word. I just made it up because it sort of sounded like “antics the twins have been up to”.)
So, yeah, adorable. Let me tell you.
They have a perfectly hideous orange teddy bear (a gift, of course) that they just adore. They attach themselves to it early in the morning and hug it and talk to it and treat it like their baby for long periods of time at a stretch. I think I’ve even spotted them trying to make it walk, and trying to put it to bed.
Occasionally, they fight over maternity rights, but not very often.
Yesterday, after their bath, I wrapped them in their towels and sent them to their room as usual. Technically, Mrini’s towel is blue, Tara’s is orange; but we’re not overly particular about it. So, as it happened, Mrini was wrapped in the orange towel and Tara in the blue. On entering their room, Mrini unwrapped herself and started to spread her towel very neatly on her pillow preparatory to lying down with her head on her pillow (so that I can rub oil all over her, they have extraordinarily dry skin). Tara rushed in, grabbed the towel off the pillow and draped it over the orange teddy and proceeded to hold him up by the ear, giggling insanely. Mrini, outraged, tried to get her towel back. Tara unravelled her own towel and politely handed it to Mrini, who took it, flung it on the floor with utter contempt, and resumed her quest for her own towel. She succeeded in getting it, eventually, and Tara wailed and wailed and went on wailing till I got her to point out all her various body parts and end by touching her toes with her nose, by which time she was still upset, but had forgotten what she was upset about.
Another activity that keeps them occupied is to grab any piece of cloth they can find – the laundry basket usually has a good collection; otherwise they flick the hand towel from the bathroom or kitchen – and to very diligently mop the floor and wipe/rub/scrub every surface they can find. Sometimes they even scrub my face.
Mrini has started paying attention to music. If there’s anything particularly lively on, or if I’m singing along, her face lights up like a thousand watts and she starts moving her arms up and down as though she’s dancing. Her current favourites are Disco Deewane (Nazia Hassan, remember her?) and Billy Joel (particularly An Innocent Man, the album).
As I sat with them on the sofa this afternoon, the sun bounced off my watch and created a small, shining highlight on the living room wall. I remembered how I used to love these reflections as a child myself, so I showed it to them, making it dance all over the wall and ceiling. They thought it was the moon. I thought that was close enough (sunlight reflecting off something; how do you explain reflection to a two-year-old?) so I let it pass. Unfortunately, after a few minutes the sunlight disappeared and so did the “moon” – and they were desolate. They followed me around asking – pleading – for the moon. By the time they went to bed at 8.15 at night, Tara was still plaintively asking for the moon. How do you explain the absence of the moon (or, in this case, the sun that caused the reflection) to a two-year-old?
Not that they can ask me too many things yet. Their verbal communication still consists of a fair mix of one- and two-word-phrases, and a goodly number of bits and pieces of nursery rhymes which they jumble up in hilarious fashion (“Twinkle twinkle little lamb” “Humpty Dumpty my black hen” and so on). I can hardly wait for them to reach the Mel-and-Jess stage.
I suppose loading the twins with three languages does slow down the process a bit, but think of all the potential for fun when they start mixing the languages!