Together for preschool - yea!!!

A teacher from the preschool my daughter attended handed me a waiting-list form the other day. She'll take the boys when they are old enough, she said. Both of them.
I was and am ecstatic.
The preschool is run by the county, primarily for children with special needs. The teacher has only four slots for typical kids in her class: two for girls; two for boys. If she takes Matthew and Jonathan, they will fill all her typical-boy slots.
Predominant education practice dictates that she recommend separating the boys. Yet, she's happy to take them together. She believes me when I say that they will probably do better together and that they barely acknowledge each other when they play in large groups.
Her attitude is a relief.
And it gives me hope that as more studies are conducted on identical twins and separation, common sense and open minds will prevail. Several states have passed laws eliminating the mandatory separation policies of multiples in public schools, but the movement has a long ways to go.
For now, there is help for parents who are facing that battle or who want to get a jump start before their kids reach school-age. This Web site is run a woman who is determined to change the way school administrators and teachers think.
Check it out.

Fashion fights

The boys have started fighting.
Now, they've always squabbled a bit over toys and attention. But the all-out, screaming-crying-kicking-tantrum kind of stuff has only recently begun. And that kind of fighting they have reserved for clothes.
Yes, clothes.
Both Jonathan and Matthew seem to have an affection for yellow and/or orange shirts and they will do anything to get them. They will even try to pull them off each other, bowling each other over in the process.
I haven't read any studies on identical twins and clothing preferences.
I can only hope that this is just a phase or that, at least, they will someday prefer a color that is a bit less fluorescent. Like maybe blue or green.

Ready to run

My 7-year-old daughter and I were at an outpatient clinic for Children's Hospital the other day when a man entered the room with his two-year-old son. My daughter undergoes therapy for sensory integration disorder. This little boy was having physical therapy in the other half of the room, which was divided by a curtain.
I watched as the boy fought with his therapist and his dad, both of whom insisted he walk. He didn't want to walk. He wanted to drag himself across the floor using his arms. The dad smiled at me and said, "He broke his leg. He got the cast off two weeks ago and he won't put any weight on it."
Thanks to his twin, Jonathan will probably never meet that therapist.
That little boy was an only child, according to the father. He didn't try to walk on his cast and his parents carried him everywhere. They didn't push him. Now they wish they had. The doctor told them that would have made all the difference.
We haven't pushed Jonathan.
We don't need to.
Moments ago, Jonathan ran across the living room in his hip-to-toe cast and leaped into his bean bag chair. He was imitating his twin brother, who was lying in his own chair, laughing and watching as Jonathan flew.
Earlier today, Jonathan climbed the steps to his Little Tykes slide and slid down on his belly face-first. Again, he was imitating his twin, who was imitating their 8-year-old brother. When Jonathan reached the bottom, he pulled himself up and did it again.
Jonathan walked the neighborhood for so long yesterday that he ripped right through my sock, the one I had pulled over his cast to protect his toes from the concrete. Fortunately, it was one of those socks that had lost its mate.
No. Jonathan will not need therapy.
My guess is that on Nov. 12, when that cast is sawed from his leg, Jonathan will step down from the table. Then he will walk right out the doors of Children's Hospital eagerly searching for his identical twin brother.

No longer entirely identical

We can easily tell the boys apart now.

Jonathan and I spent two hours at Children's Hospital today. He broke his shin bone, a small fracture. The doctor said it is a common toddler injury. Orange seems to be his favorite color right now, so that's what he will wear for the next four weeks.

Matthew seems more affected by the cast than Jonathan. With no active playmate, his curiosity is in overdrive. Yesterday, he climbed on the dining room table, got stuck in a small space between the hutch and the wall and repeatedly tried to empty the silverware drawer.

He imitates his brother by crawling on the floor and dragging one foot along.

It's going to be a long four weeks.

Can you guess who this is?

Accidental separation

I've mentioned before that Matthew and Jonathan have rarely been apart. They've made separate trips to the grocery store a few times, but, with two older kids and a husband who works a lot, I just haven't had the time or the energy to intentionally separate them.
According to the experts out there, we are doing everything wrong.
So last night and this morning should have been emotionally traumatic for them. They should have cried for each other. They should have been looking around corners seeking each other out. They should been calling each other's names.
They didn't.
Last night, just before bed, Jonathan was walking through the living room when he somehow took an odd step and fell. He screamed and screamed and couldn't put weight on his left leg. So off we went to the ER while Matthew stayed behind with dad.
X-rays revealed no fracture, but the doctor suspects injury to the soft tissue. We left Matthew behind again today to pick up the X-rays and stop by the pediatrician's office for a quick check of the circulation in the splinted leg. Tomorrow, Jonathan and I will spend an estimated two hours in the orthopedic unit at Children's Hospital, a 30-minute drive away.
There have been no sad good-byes and no overzealous reunions between Matthew and Jonathan. Neither had any trouble getting to sleep on his own last night. Neither seems annoyed or upset to have the other back in his midst.
Aside from logistical challenges presented by the splint, Matthew and Jonathan have fallen right back into their usual relationship patterns without missing a beat. They seem confident in their relationship.
Confident and secure.
So much for the experts.

Snakes

Jonathan chewed a long, skinny apple slice down to the peel today.
Then he walked around the house, shaking the stringy remnants in the air and saying "hssssss."
A few hours later, I found Matthew slithering along the hardwood in the dining room, dragging himself by his hands.
"Hssssss," he said over and over again.
Either they have simultaneously become interested in snakes or they are trying to tell me we have snakes in the house.
Yikes!

18 months tall

They are tall.
Boy, are they tall.
Three feet tall.
That puts Matthew and Jonathan far above the 95th percentile compared to their male peers, just like our two older kids.
We grow them big.
Matthew is the more svelte of the two at 28 pounds, seven ounces, according to the doctor's scale. Jonathan weighed in at 29 pounds, three ounces, during their appointment Monday. Both ranked at the 75th percentile for weight, which makes them long and lean despite their chubby cheeks.
Their heads remain in the 90th percentile.
Lots of brains, maybe?
The doctor expressed some concern about the development of twinese (or idioglossia or cryptophasia). She said to contact her in three months if they still say no words clearly. The next day, of course, Matthew and Jonathan alternately walked up to our van, patted the side door and said "car" perfectly. Later in the day, they became obsessed with doors, again pronouncing the word clearly.
Earlier this afternoon, they spent 15 minutes walking from door to door, patting each one and saying "door?". They refused to move on until I said "Yes, door," with a nod of approval. I had to follow them from room to room or they stomped their feet and cried.
I had planned to drink my coffee.
It got cold.
I didn't mind.

Speak! Please?

I'll admit it.
I've been getting a bit paranoid about the twins and their language skills as their 18-month appointment approaches (It is scheduled for Monday, about three weeks late.). They seem to understand most everything: they run to their highchairs when I ask whether they want to eat; they bring us their shoes or go to the door when we suggest going outside; they can make a wide variety of animal noises on command.
But they just don't really speak.
They have a few clear words. (Well, I can't really think of any that are clear right now, but they do talk a lot.) They practice inflection frequently, usually imitating the true inflection of conversation. They rely heavily on nonverbal expressions, like when they shove books at us, put shoes on our feet or tug on our shirts if we dare try to read the paper, eat some breakfast or even just rest our heads on the table.
Yet when I listen to other toddlers communicate, it just isn't the same.
Despite our best efforts, Jonathan and Matthew are sinking quickly into the language of twinese with such sounds as "nah" for "done" (Where the heck did that come from?) or "seh" for "sit" or "da" for almost anything they want the other twin to see.
So, of course, I turned to Google.
And this is what I found.
According to this recent study, the boys might be behind in language speaking ability, but they are probably right on track as far as overall language development. As twins, they simply tend to use nonverbal skills more often than words.
In fact, they might have an advantage over singletons and twins who do not create their own languages. According to the authors, twin language (or twinese or idioglossia or cryptophasia) enhances language development in a way that is similar to the language enhancement experienced by bilingual children.
Now this study might be flawed.
It is based on a small sampling: the children of 26 mothers of twins and singletons.
But, who cares.
Before I Googled this study, I was worried that my boys might be behind in their communications skills. These folks say Jonathan and Matthew might, instead, be above average.
Their study is good enough for me.

Gimme the sports page, would ya?

Perhaps the boys inherited the journalism DNA! This is how I found Matthew and Jonathan one recent morning after I ran to the basement to get some milk from the spare fridge. Jonathan is wearing the red shirt. Matthew is in green.

Little strippers

The boys taught each other a few new tricks today.
First Jonathan pulled off his shorts. Matthew watched with enthusiasm, stepping out of his own shorts moments later.
Cute, I thought, as they ran around the house in their diapers.
I returned to my sink full of dishes.
It was not so cute about five minutes later when Matthew came running into the kitchen fully naked, and proudly handed me his diaper. I peered into the living room, where Jonathan had just managed to peel his diaper off and was holding it up like a trophy.
Grrr.
About an hour ago, I zipped them into sleep sacs--taking comfort in the knowledge that they cannot get their hands inside to strip off their pants and diapers--and I prayed that by tomorrow they will forget.
But they won't.
They never forget.