Freaks, wierdos, slapstick duos: identical twins on television

After a long, hard swimming lesson today, Matthew and Jonathan kicked back on the sofa with a couple sippies of milk (white for Jonathan; chocolate for Matthew) and tuned into an episode of Olivia, the animated series about an imaginative girl pig who is obsessed with red.
I didn't catch all of it, but I found myself pulled in when Olivia introduced a set of identical twin pigs, who were boys. She mixed up their names, of course, and they pointed out her error. Olivia's response? She laughed and referred to them instead as, simply, "twins."
The identical boys then performed the equivalent of a circus act.
This from Noggin, the network that proclaims to defy stereotypes and introduce children to a diversity of peoples and cultures with such shows as Dora the Explorer and Ni Hao Kia-Lan.
I have always been annoyed by the portrayal of identical twins in film and in television. When they are the main characters, they sometimes fare well. But when they are secondary characters, they are most often the slapstick duos, the wierdos, the freaks.
They are not hard to find, particulary in the popular animated televisions series targeted at children-- the Egg twins (Eggbert and Leo) in Oswald; Timmy and Tommy Tibble in Arthur; Susan and Mary Test from Johnny Test-- just to name a few.
Now that we are raising identical twins of our own, I am more than annoyed. I am concerned for my youngest sons and the message that these portrayals relay to them. These shows treat identical twins as hillarious units, as misfits, as circus acts.
And as I look at our boys sitting there on the sofa-- one in shorts, the other in pants; one in a red shirt, the other in yellow; both with their heads cocked in precisely the same position with precisely the same expression on their handsome faces-- I can't help thinking that this is hard enough.
Already, their strikingly similar looks and mannerisms require that they announce their indivual identities daily, something other children never have to worry about. But now they have to fight Noggin too, and PBS and Disney and all the authors out there who use identical twins as devices.
The worst part?
(Maybe I'm overreacting. Maybe they'll never put two and two together. They are smart boys, smart enough to avoid identifying with cartoon characters. Smart enough to differentiate fiction from reality even at three years old. Maybe, I've just had too long a day and this rant is just the result of stress.)
When the identical boys on Olivia performed their clownish act, Matthew and Jonathan laughed.

The time-out swap

I used to be able to count on Matthew.
Or, at least, on his time-outs.
He'd begin testing me immediately after we dropped the older kids off at school. By the second trip to the time-out chair, I knew, without looking at the clock, that it was time to get lunch ready.
The third trip generally came just before we left to pick up the older kids from school, and fourth time-out was our call to dinner. Sometimes, there was a fifth time-out. That meant we were late getting them to bed.
But I couldn't count on Jonathan.
Just the mention of discipline made him quiver.
And whenever his brother was buckled in the time-out chair, he would cry and cry, demanding that I set him free.
I could honestly say that Matthew was our difficult twin.
Not anymore.
Just as they have done with so many other personality traits, Matthew and Jonathan have swapped. It's almost like they are toying with us. They push us and push us to label them and then, just when we're confident that we know these guys, that we know who they are and that we can openly say so, they pull a fast one.
One takes on the trait of the other.
But that doesn't mean they mimic each other.
Somehow, they still manage to do it in their own, individual ways.
Yes, Matthew's behavior has improved.
But he doesn't have the empathy that Jonathan had.
He couldn't care less whether his brother gets a time-out.
And I can't count on Jonathan like I could count on Matthew.
Jonathan's time-outs come in one endless stream all day long and they are proceeded by screeches of "I don't like," I don't," and "I will not" along with lots of hitting and pushing.
Matthew simply defied us, quietly and boldly.
I'm not thrilled with this phase, but I am thrilled to find even more evidence that identical genes do not mean that Matthew and Jonathan will respond to situations with identical emotions and attitudes.
Even in their rebellion, they are individuals.

The games they play

The rice was cooking. The ground turkey was soaking up the taco spices. The black beans (protein for our vegetarian son) were in the microwave. Dinner was almost ready the other day when my domestic bliss was distributed by a frantic, high-pitched cry.
"Help! Help! Someone help me!"
I darted into the living room, afraid of the scene that might await me. What I found made my heart stop ... in a good way. Jonathan stood on the edge of the sofa in a crouch. Matthew stood below him with his arms outstretched.
"I will help you Jonny," Matthew said in a soft voice. "I will help you."
Jonathan leaped gently into his brother's arms and both boys crashed to the floor in a fit of giggles. Then Matthew climbed onto the sofa, stood in a crouch on the edge and yelled, "Help! Help!" while Jonathan reached out to him.
It was a game.
Just a game.
New, complicated, highly imaginative games are becoming an important part of Matthew's and Jonathan's twin life lately.
Among their favorites:
They serve each other pizza and salads.
They use a toy blood-pressure monitor as a racing flag and take turns running to an imaginary finish line.
They have rules about who can shout "bah" and when while they are watching DVDs.
Even more interesting is that they are in agreement.
Matthew and Jonathan do not argue about the rules. When one chastises the other for breaking a rule, the scolded twin complies. Neither tries to take control over the other. They don't question each other's judgment.
Oh, I'm sure their time will come.
They are only three, after all.
But I am living in the moment.
And right now, I am in awe of them.
I am loving it.

The birthday: trains, trains and more trains

For their third birthday, we took Matthew and Jonathan to a place in West Chester, Ohio, called Entertrainment Junction. Entertrainment Junction has a large train display and a play area that features Thomas the Tank Engine and all of his buddies. It was the perfect celebration for a couple of train addicts.

Matthew driving the train

Jonathan waiting for Thomas, Annie and Clarabel to come 'round again.

Big brother Riley (9) and big sister Kiersten (8).

At home the next day wearing the birthday sunglasses. Cool dude Matthew is in green. Cool dude Jonathan is in red.

Today, they are three

My first thought on the twins' second birthday was, "Thank God. They are halfway to four."
I make no apologies.
Those were tough days.
But today, they are three.
Today is different.
Today, I am excited.
These two little men can talk to me.
They can reason with me. They can argue with me. They can sympathize. They can empathize. They can stomp their feet. They can hold my hands. They can play hide-n-seek. They can dress themselves.
They can leap onto my lap and wrap their arms around my neck for no reason at all.
They can tell me stories.
Yes, it's still hard.
They still run away from me at times. They still open the fridge, strip off their clothes and sneak into my office to play on my computer. They jump off everything, throw their toys and dump their stuffed-animal basket.
They are demanding, stubborn and curious.
But, they bring their plates to the counter after dinner.
They hug and kiss each other when they apologize. They pretend to be their older brother and sister and they pretend to be each other. Their cars and trains go grocery shopping, to school and to Target.
The best part is that they do most of that in different ways.
Matthew is Matthew.
Jonathan is Jonathan.
They are inseparable, but separate.
I let them choose the flavor ice-cream they will have with their cakes today.
Matthew chose chocolate.
Jonathan chose vanilla.
Each will savor his own.
But each will try the other's.
Today, they are three.
And, this time around, I feel no urge to rush it.
I look forward to the journey that will take us to four.

That one

The realization hit me just before Christmas.
It was early in the evening and all four kids were playing together. My daughter stopped to describe a funny incident involving one of her twin brothers. I asked her which one. She pointed to Matthew and said, "That one."
"Who?" I asked.
"That one," she said.
"No," I said. "Tell me his name."
She shrugged and said she didn't know.
Then I asked her older brother.
He didn't know either.
Neither was bothered.
Matthew and Jonathan were indistinguishable to even their own siblings.
How could we have missed that?
We missed it because we were too busy.
When all four children are together, the household is a chaotic mess. They twins like to get wild and the older kids like to get wild with them. It's all I can do to keep my sanity and to ensure that no one gets hurt.
Who has time for individuality and identities?
I didn't let it go that evening. I pressed my older children to figure out who was who and, in the end, they got it right. When we sat down to breakfast the next morning, we had a chat. Riley (9) and Kiersten (8) told me that they can figure out who is who if they really try, but that they usually didn't bother.
They didn't bother, they said, because I was always quick to identify their brothers for them.
We reached an agreement.
I explained why it was important that they know their brothers as individuals.
They agreed to try.
For a day or two, it was a game.
It quickly became a habit.
There are still times when they refer to the twins as "this one," or "that one," but most of the time it's "Matt," or "Jon."
And something beautiful has come of it.
Their strategy of play has changed.
Riley and Kiersten are learning that Matthew and Jonathan have different play styles and that simply getting wild isn't the only option. Riley and Jonathan have a cuddling game. Kiersten enjoys engaging Matthew in conversation.
The house is quieter (sometimes).
The kids are more content (sometimes).
I am much less stressed.

Happy New Year!

Matthew and Jonathan did not tear open their siblings' gifts.
They did not throw food at the table during Christmas dinner.
They did not tear down the tree.
They did, however, argue intensly and often over the trains Santa brought them.
Who ever would have thought that Spencer would become a favorite?
Overall, the holidays were a success and we hope yours were too.
Happy New Year from the Foster family!

From left to right: Matthew, Kiersten (8), Jonathan and Riley (9)

Matthew is in the snowman sweater. Jonathan is wearing polar bears. The sweaters came from Grandma Foster. The hula hoops were a gift from their sister, Kiersten.

Jonathan is on the left. Daddy picked out the glow-in-the-dark train shirts.