


One of the many fascinating aspects of raising toddler twins is noticing the differences emerging between the two. In many ways, the boys are so very much alike, but little by little, they are beginning to assert their differences and it's an amazing process to observe.
Being toddlers, the boys naturally thrive on attention from others. I've noticed, however, that Dex seems a bit more social, in that he prefers to be interacting with others the majority of the time. For this reason, I believe, Dex has a larger vocabulary and seems to make more of an effort to communicate verbally. Jax, on the other hand, seems so much more content playing and exploring without the assistance of Mom or Dad. In fact, he often gives me this look of slight annoyance when I try to get him to play games with me. It's like he's humoring his mom and just waiting for the opportunity to go off on his own, foraging through cupboards, etc. He certainly seems to have the comprehension of language, but doesn't seem compelled to communicated the way Dex does.
Is it unfair of me to make these comparisons between the two? Being a twin, I have lived 27 years of endless comparisons. I remember as a child revelling in the minute physical differences between my sister and me. A small beauty mark or an extra freckle would be claimed with pride, as solid proof that we were, in fact, unique individuals. As we got older, however, the comparisons weren't always as fun. "Who's the smarter one? Prettier one? Nicer one? Who's more athletic? More musical?...." These questions or comments were meant to distinguish us, one from the other, but inevitably, were also intended to rank us, so to speak, against each other. One of the more unfair realities of being an identical twin...
Now, as a parent of twins, I realize that these daily comparisons can't be helped. The challenge will come in making sure these comparisons are meant to make each child feel special and unique, rather than inferior to his brother. For example, Dex may currently be a bit more outgoing, and therefore, have a slightly larger vocabulary. Jax, however, is remarkably independant and less reliant on Mom or Dad for, say, getting out of a box, going down the stairs, or getting out of a tight spot (which happens quite frequently in his explorations). I have to giggle when I look at the photos above. Jax is on the left and Dex is on the right. What isn't pictured is Dex's previous attempt to get out of the box. He tried once and then decided to wait (a bit impatiently, as you can see!) for Mom to lift him out. Jax, on the other hand, kept trying until he figured out his own escape route. I love watching their individual strengths start to emerge...













Here are my two very-grown-up boys enjoying one of their favorite activities... sitting/riding around in a box! Jax is in the front, Dex is in the back.








Jax thoroughly examines the accordian before venturing to touch ALL of the buttons... 





Now, the question is, how do we curb this zeal for climbing which seems to be at the very core of their being? If it is their nature to climb, are all of our efforts futile? As I've previously posted, our kitchen chairs are semi-permanently kept either on top of the table, where they are (for the time being) too high to reach, or slid far under the table, where they are no fun to climb. The kitchen pot-rack is blocked off by our kitchen table (which even makes it hard for Mama to reach the pots and pans!), the piano bench is slid far under the piano... and we are getting far-too-used to intercepting a climbing boy from his high-summit destination. What more can we do? Will they forever want to scale the walls? How is it that I have friends whose children have never even dared create a todller-built staircase to the ceiling when it seems to be the primary objective of my little Dex and Jax? Seriously, the other day, I found that they had arranged their toys from small to large, to form a rickety trail to the very top of our upright piano. Imagine my horror, as I try to stop two little boys from falling five-feet down!











