My daughter scares me

I have long perceived that my daughter, the likely introverted one, is more likely to have a crafty side than her brother. In many ways, I am frightened by this, because I recognize it from myself, and therefore I know what to expect. Well, I know to expect that I won't be able to expect what she's able to hide from JM and me.

Tonight, E conned me for the first time. Just before story-time, N banged his head against the arm of the sofa, and so we gave him a cold-compress (that's shaped like a little cartoon child). E had an absolute fit: she wanted the "boo-boo". She shrieked and cried and demanded a series of things from JM before finally settling into our usual position: N on my lap on the rocking chair, E on the ottoman, lying on my legs.

Midway into the stories, N realizes he no longer has the "boo-boo" and climbs out of the chair. I get frustrated and declare that it is time for bed, and pick up E with her assortment of stuffed toys and security blankets and put her in her crib, and N looks around for the "boo-boo". I get on my knees and look, behind the chair, in between the cushions, around everywhere. "I don't know where it is, N. Where did you drop it?"

I am frustrated, and then start to look in E's crib. She starts to protest, and I slide my hand under her body just as she starts crying "I wanna hold it... I wanna hold it." The "boo-boo" is underneath her.

The usually nice, tranquil end to the evening is shattered.

I fear what's to come.

No, Mine!

You'd think that in a year, the dynamic of sharing would change. Well, it has. They both now know that when you count to ten, it is the other one's turn. Except, the phrase "my turn!" is shouted excitedly without reliably being related to a full count of ten. In fact, N has learned from this to count as follows: "1, 2, 3, 9, 10, My Turn!"

The other night, I was struck. I heard the words, "No, mine" from their room. It was about 11pm, and I heard nothing before or after, so I concluded this: N was having a dream, perhaps a nightmare, in which E takes something away from him, and he shouted out his usual retort.

Oh, the inner life of a two year-old twin! To have the constant companionship of a sister, but also be constantly guarded to the notion that he might have to share. I mean, really, he gets no break from this. He can't just go play with any and every toy (or non-toy, as the case may be).

However, it is pure love when I see one of them voluntarily give over a toy/object in the ten-second-sharing ritual, or offering something to his sister/her brother that he/she thinks she/he might like. To see them learning to share by necessity is pretty satisfying.

Oh, gotta go! I'm hearing N cry out "my ____!"