My boys are at that age when most kids are
starting to make awkward overtures toward playing together. Most kids this age
are starting to share smiles, loudly talk about their toys for another child’s
benefit, exchange a sentence or two before retreating back into parallel play,
maybe hug or say hi at the beginning of play dates. On the rare occasion that they're apart but with other kids, N and O are very good at this. Because they are twins, they have been playing together for more than a year, and are fairly well
versed in the rules of shared imaginative play and very basic conflict resolution.
“Trade please?” says N, already grabbing for his brother’s toy. “No!” says O,
pulling it back. “Please, Ollie?” “OK” When a boy finds something
interesting, he usually looks for an “equivalent” and doles it out to his
brother before settling into play, sort of a preemptive peacekeeping strategy.
Since the beginning of last summer, they’ve had elaborate games, involving
water, and animals, and riding in trains using our blue living room rug or a
couple of laundry bins as props. Watching them play like this is a true joy of
having more than one child, maybe especially so with twins.
My particular
twins are not just fraternal; they look nothing alike and are different, though
not necessarily opposite, in more ways than I can count. I believe that they
are very different thinkers and learners, and will likely have different
strengths and passions. Being boys and twins and preemies, they
were in a pretty high risk category for speech delays, and our pediatrician
watched their language development carefully. There was no need for worry
there, it turned out, because if there’s one are where both boys have been
“early” it is in the area of speech. N had half a dozen words by his first
birthday, and too many to count by 18 months. The boy speaks in paragraphs
these days, complete with all of our language’s parts. At 2 years 10 months, he
has only a couple of toddlerisms left: he say “mans” instead of men, and “mys” instead
of mine. O was a bit more typical, and considerably harder to understand at
first, but when he turned two, his vocabulary also exploded into sentences,
grammar, and long imaginative descriptions of his world. This also, is a joy,
and certainly makes life easier for the whole family.
The downside to
having very large, very verbal boys is that sometimes, like at MOPS and at
church, they fold right into a group of three year olds, though emotionally,
socially, even physically, they are still very much exactly their age. They are
prone to meltdowns, to being overwhelmed with the effort it takes to
communicate. Their fine motor skills don’t allow for drawing stick figures
quite yet, or following complex directions, sitting still for a long story, or
using scissors very effectively. They seem aware of this at times. Their good
judgment is still emerging, and they’re still known to grab something off a
counter without asking and put it in their mouths. Sitting still for a group
activity is not a particular strength for either of them, though they’ll
happily spend an hour of “quiet time” playing alone in their rooms. J and I
fall into the same trap the nice caregivers at MOPS do sometimes. We ask too
much of them, get too frustrated with their meltdowns, get stuck into thinking
they should “know better by now”. I often remind myself that while not having
words can be frustrating for both parents and children, having more words in
your brain than you are capable of understanding entirely and always being expected
to use them is also overwhelming and frustrating. Occasionally both boys will
refuse to talk entirely; doing exactly the grunt, screech and point that their
language delayed peers can’t seem to escape from quite yet.
People sometimes
ask us if they have their own language—I’m sure this is familiar to you moms of
multiples out there—and my answer is always the same. No, not really, they talk
well and that’s actually very rare.. Lately, though, they’ve started playing
with language together in a new way, through nonsense syllables and rhyming.
Mealtimes are full of boys literally collapsing in silliness, saying “dank ooo”
instead of “thank you” and so on, trading made up phonemes back and
forth, entire sentences with every word a rhyme of the one being referred to.
“Mit mown! Mime to meat, Mollie!”, says N as O is scrambling into his booster
seat. “Mo! I don’t montto” yells O, giggling. Soon, the sentences and any attempt at meaning disappear
entirely, and they just make up words that sound funny to them, back and forth,
like a ping pong game of syllabic nonsense. They can get so engrossed in this
game that their food sits untouched, my attempts to get their attention are
rebuffed, and the volume gets so loud it hurts my head to hear any more. I can
sometimes only break through to them by inserting my body between them, or
picking up one boy out of his seat and getting his attention. I cannot imagine
how long they’d carry on if they still shared a room.
They don’t share
a language, per se, they don’t share any more DNA than full siblings
born a decade apart, and they don’t hit most of their milestones at the same
time, but they do share something very “twinny”, especially lately. They play
their games, their own private language and imagination games, everywhere now.
At the table, in the car, at the Y in the pool, in the doctor’s office, everywhere.
They are increasingly lost without each other, and obviously relieved when they
are reunited. Lately I’m also noticing that when their peers make an attempt to
communicate, N and O fail to include them even though they’re well versed in
the rules of play for kids their age. They turn their backs and go back to
playing in their own twinny little bubble, happily oblivious to the other kids.
The exception is when they play with kids at least a full year older, kids who
are better at getting something going.
J and I are
trying to spend some time with each boy alone every week, and we’re looking at
preschools that will be likely to help them learn to play with other kids. I’ve
come to the conclusion that this has more to do with a school’s commitment to
doing some individual goal-setting rather than a particular philosophy. J and I
think that with their different learning styles, it’s quite likely that N and
O’ll do better in different kindergarten classes.
I’m curious to
know though, if this is a stage, or whether they might always be a little like
this. It's so hard to imagine them living apart someday, and it's easy to
imagine how some twins end up going to the same college and sharing a room
there.
They’re happy,
joyful kids, and I’m glad they love each other to pieces. Still, sometimes I wonder if we should be doing more
to make sure they let the rest of the world in on their fun.
Interesting question. I think two big factors help: N is kind of one of those "active alert" kids. He's bright, quick, social, and very much a performer. He's starting to seem like the kind of kid that'll get the rest of the room going in some big imaginative theme someday, and he tends to lead his brother into elaborate story lines. He can also be very bossy, but I think this tendency of his still helps their relationship more than it hurts. Language does help their relationship, because their play is more involved due to having all those stories to tell each other now.
The other thing that makes them close is how they lean on each other. This has been true for a long time, since about 14 months at least. I have one boy (N) who has a lot of separation anxiety and fears, and another boy that is dangerously fearless, but can be much shyer than he appears, as he mimics N's social acumen. So in new situations, N leans on O to feel safe away from Mama or Daddy, and O looks to N for social cues. It always amazes me how people use the terms "shyness" and "separation anxiety" interchangeably. They are really very different animals, IMO, though one kid can certainly experience some of both, and it may be hard to tell which is which. I would say that's it's worth the effort. O doesn't miss me much, he's just a little shy. N isn't the least bit shy (believe me!), but he hates separating someplace or with someone new. The nice thing for our family is how these challenges for them have been made somewhat of a positive by helping their relationsip.
And Amy asked (and a couple of people e-mailed along similar lines):