My sister and I know things about each other in ways that defy science and logic. No matter where we are, we just know things about each other. Like when she was cycle-touring South America and I dreamed that I flew to Brazil to give her maternity clothes that would be comfortable on a bike, and she phoned the next day to say she was unexpectedly pregnant.
Then there was/were our second children. We each phoned our mom on the same day (from different cities) to tell her the good news that we were pregnant again. Mom laughed her head off when I phoned. I said, "Mom, this is happy news, not funny news." She said, "phone your sister." Then we gave birth the very same day, Barb in Cranbrook, me in Burnaby. So we have twin cousins who are uncannily alike. I just heard my daugher arguing with my son in the basement, then I realised it was my nephew, he just sounds like my daughter. And they have similar personalities, tastes in food, etc.
Barb's husband once claimed he is the father of both of them. Actually, he told an old lady at the bus stop who was fussing over the babies. "Yeah, they're sisters. They gave birth on the same day. I'm the father." Well, I can tell you, it ain't so. But I didn't tell the lady. I just smiled like a good plural wife because it was fun to rattle her and I was still pretty wacked out from giving birth. Anyway. The twin cousins get reunited a few times every year, and I'm always delighted how they are growing up so different and so similar all at once.
Tomorrow the girl twin, who has just overcome her fear of the Hellevator at Playland, is going to get the boy twin to go on it too. I can hardly wait. One day they will appear in the same Broadway play. Barb and I will be in the audience, laughing our heads off in a happy AND funny way.
question: I don't know, ask the kids
mompoet - surrounded by stinky sneakers and walking miracles
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