Independence Day

So yesterday, my boys were 5. 5! How did these little bundles of baby turn FIVE?

Now. While this post should be sweet and full of my love for my boys, it will turn inevitably to one about me, so let's spare you the sap and get right down to it.

I had to buy my two boy children completely different gifts. And I was completely and utterly traumatized.

Now, those of you with singletons are likely staring at the screen thinking that I have finally lost my mind. And I may have, but that would be an entirely separate matter. Even moms of boy/girl twins likely think I'm a loon, since this is something they have dealt with all along.

But I'm hoping that some of you with same-sex twins understand my plight - they are completely separate children. When the hell did that happen?

Most people I know with twins spend a crazy amount of time ensuring that things are fair and balanced. My poor husband couldn't even stomach the idea of the boys having different mobiles over their cribs - what if one of them got into Yale, and other couldn't even get into community college... And it was because of the mobile?

Twin moms everywhere have lengthy conversations about what to call their twins. "The twins?" Definitely not, we all say, they are separate people, not a unit. But at the end of the day, I was in a pretty good groove of buying two of everything boy, and if it wasn't the exact same thing, it was a close relative. One gets Spiderman, the other gets Batman. Done.

But this year? This year, they throw me. After his epiphany (and much pushing and yelling), W wanted a scooter. So a scooter it was. But no amount of creative suggestion could sway F from his chosen prize - a Fantastic Four skateboard. "A fast one!" he crowed. W also couldn't be swayed, and Lord knows I tried.

So last night, the boys received their bounty - a Fantastic Four skateboard for one, and a blue scooter for the other. They are thrilled, my husband and I, perplexed.

When on earth did these toddlers turn into people with opinions? And different ones, at that? We knew they had opposite temperaments, but they seemed to do things in waves. W walked first, F three weeks later. F showed his teacher his penis, W pulls his pants down in class 6 months later. But this, for some reason, was completely unexpected. (Not as unexpected as the dual pantsing, but I digress.)

Try as I might to remember that they are indeed separate individuals, I too was lumping them into a group for ease of use. I grab two of everything, from shirts to toys. They are "my boys", not W & F. Yet apparently, 5 brings independence, not only from me, but from each other, which is interesting and sad all at the same time.

So the science experiment at our house continues while I adjust my shopping habits. And if W doesn't get into Yale, blame the scooter.