Being Three
M has an imaginary friend. In the car today she was telling me a story about her friend "Ima" (Eema?) and the things they did together today: swinging, pretending something was a ship, etc. I asked if Ima was a new friend at summer camp. M said, "no, mom, I made her up." "You mean she's not at school?" "No, I said I made her up."
Later, when M+O were talking about their birthday in September (which they know is "soon" and discuss almost daily) unprompted, M said Ima would not be able to come to their birthday party because she had a doctor's appointment that day. I wouldn't have expected a twin who has a constant playmate to have an imaginary friend, but she does. Wonder if Ima will stick around? (I found out later that funnydad knew all about Ima. She's been with us for a month or more he reports. Where have I been? Yeah, I'm the Best. Mom. Ever.)
* * *
O: At school at circle time sometimes the teachers say a boy has to sit next to a girl. (She makes a face.)
Mom: Boys and girls can be friends.
O: But they won't play with us.
M: Yeah, boys are good at trucks and bugs and we don't like trucks and bugs. But, we're good at climbing!
* * *
The girls outgrew their gymnastics leotards, which also double as their dress-up-like-a-ballerina leotards. So, O took M's old one -- a velour pink one she'd coveted for months -- and M needed a new one. Before we went to the store we talked about how only M was getting a new leotard, and when O outgrew hers we'd get her a new one, too. We discussed this many, many times over several days before setting out for the store. My goal was to get in and out quickly, but O's keen eye and obsession with anything purple foiled my best intentions. She spotted the sparkly purple dance leotard with a skirt! Complete breakdown. Tears. Wailing. Attempts at reasoning. Attempts to reason back. Threats of a time out. More tears. More wailing. The whole scene was so bad I almost broke down and bought it, but they didn't have one in her size. Embarassed, I quickly paid for M's new leotard and we left before someone called child services.
I promised she could have it for her birthday. I am happy to teach my girls the lesson that they don't always get what they want when they want it, but I wish we could have done it with a little less drama and public humiliation. I almost always get things in pairs, and it doesn't have to be that way. Grown twins say that the best thing I can do is treat them like individuals. Don't always get matching gifts, don't always give the same thing in different colors. Let their personalities and interests guide gift giving. And 'sides, doesn't every mom of more than one kid spend a great deal of time saying Fair is Not Always Equal? I'm starting early.
So now, O asks several times a day when her birthday is. They used to talk about their birthday (or anyone's birthday) a lot, but now we're going for some kind of record. How long will she have to wait for her birthday? September -- when is that? The last day of September? M says, "You're wrong mom, it's not the last day. You're telling a story." O doesn't always mention the leotard, but I know it's the motivator behind the question. I'll go back to the store and special order it if I have to, and I'm sure that in two months she'll still want it just as much. This whole experience has been so intense that as I recounted the event to funnydad I wondered aloud if this could be one of her first memories. She's nearly four, and that's when some people's first memories form. Probably not, but especially since this story will have a happy ending, it wouldn't be a bad one to start with.
Later, when M+O were talking about their birthday in September (which they know is "soon" and discuss almost daily) unprompted, M said Ima would not be able to come to their birthday party because she had a doctor's appointment that day. I wouldn't have expected a twin who has a constant playmate to have an imaginary friend, but she does. Wonder if Ima will stick around? (I found out later that funnydad knew all about Ima. She's been with us for a month or more he reports. Where have I been? Yeah, I'm the Best. Mom. Ever.)
O: At school at circle time sometimes the teachers say a boy has to sit next to a girl. (She makes a face.)
Mom: Boys and girls can be friends.
O: But they won't play with us.
M: Yeah, boys are good at trucks and bugs and we don't like trucks and bugs. But, we're good at climbing!
The girls outgrew their gymnastics leotards, which also double as their dress-up-like-a-ballerina leotards. So, O took M's old one -- a velour pink one she'd coveted for months -- and M needed a new one. Before we went to the store we talked about how only M was getting a new leotard, and when O outgrew hers we'd get her a new one, too. We discussed this many, many times over several days before setting out for the store. My goal was to get in and out quickly, but O's keen eye and obsession with anything purple foiled my best intentions. She spotted the sparkly purple dance leotard with a skirt! Complete breakdown. Tears. Wailing. Attempts at reasoning. Attempts to reason back. Threats of a time out. More tears. More wailing. The whole scene was so bad I almost broke down and bought it, but they didn't have one in her size. Embarassed, I quickly paid for M's new leotard and we left before someone called child services.
I promised she could have it for her birthday. I am happy to teach my girls the lesson that they don't always get what they want when they want it, but I wish we could have done it with a little less drama and public humiliation. I almost always get things in pairs, and it doesn't have to be that way. Grown twins say that the best thing I can do is treat them like individuals. Don't always get matching gifts, don't always give the same thing in different colors. Let their personalities and interests guide gift giving. And 'sides, doesn't every mom of more than one kid spend a great deal of time saying Fair is Not Always Equal? I'm starting early.
So now, O asks several times a day when her birthday is. They used to talk about their birthday (or anyone's birthday) a lot, but now we're going for some kind of record. How long will she have to wait for her birthday? September -- when is that? The last day of September? M says, "You're wrong mom, it's not the last day. You're telling a story." O doesn't always mention the leotard, but I know it's the motivator behind the question. I'll go back to the store and special order it if I have to, and I'm sure that in two months she'll still want it just as much. This whole experience has been so intense that as I recounted the event to funnydad I wondered aloud if this could be one of her first memories. She's nearly four, and that's when some people's first memories form. Probably not, but especially since this story will have a happy ending, it wouldn't be a bad one to start with.
Comments
Every day, I think about the fact that their first memories are forming. It's kind of like the parenting big leagues, isn't it? I pray they're the good ones. A belated congrats on finishing the walk, BTW!