Walking toward the front door a few days before Spring Break last week, I watched as one of our 8 sets of twins in the school linked hands and walked out the front door together. Next to me was their mother, a wonderful woman of great character and deep insight, who shared with me that she doesn't even think they are conscious of the hand-holding. They'll be walking along and, it seems, their hands automatically find each other. She says they've always done this. When I ask if they get along at home, she looks at me like all the rest of the parents look at me when I ask this question, as if I have gone mad. No, she says, sibling rivalry still runs strong through their veins, as it does with all other brother and sister teams. And they are most definitely a team, she informs me. At third grade, they are nine years old, and have recently taken to teaming up against their mother. If mom is mad, they will whisper quietly amongst themselves, cross their arms and stare across the room at her. Forever co-conspirators. Forever sisters-in-arms.
I think it's cute, in a way. Mom smiles at me and I know from her look that she does, as well, but she can't let the twins know this. She's doomed if she does. Doubly-doomed.