Here goes: until that point where they look over and smile at the other kid, they don't see that entity as separate from themselves. Keillor is just like Emaline's arm. She is like his leg. These body parts are here, they act independently, and sometimes we get spit-up on them. Then one day we realize that we can control them. This hand can be used to wipe my nose. I can put this one in my mouth. These feet kick things. This, whateveryoucallit, keeps looking at me. Wait, maybe it's not part of me. Maybe it's like the feeder, the rocker, and the diaper changer.
Button stares at Bug
Their first communication as distinct beings began. My mom, their dear Grandmommy, created a fictional dialogue using these photos. I would put it on the blog, but Grandmommy included a
word that, while hilarious, I cannot share with the public. If you want her to share it with you, e-mail her at email@example.com.
We have had other revelations, but I have been way too busy to update this blog. First, Keillor is a fan of television. Uh, oh. Secondly, they love bedtime stories. The Amazing Tales of Keillor and Emaline send the twins into a dreamy stupor, especially the story of the Sleep Maker, which they have heard a million times already. Finally, they really do look like twins. People are always talking about how Emaline is obviously a girl and Keillor is obviously a boy (again, that's firstname.lastname@example.org), but get them matching outfits, and the cute factor increases exponentially.
Awe. Are they twins? Do twins run in your family?
I'll leave you with this image:
Sixteen weeks ago, our children were tiny, red, wrinkled knobs of flesh that cried, ate, slept, and peed. They were covered tip to toes with hair and were barely strong enough to use their arms and legs. Keillor was as yellow as Maggie Simpson. Next week is their official four-month birthday. So much development in such a brief period of time. I think I'm going to cry.