I don’t mind when people ask me about telling them apart — I joke about it and give props to my wife who has almost never mixed them up. To me, the answer to that question really isn’t that important. From my perspective telling them apart as individuals, as people, is more important than recognizing the subtle differences in their appearance.
As they have gotten older it has actually become easier to tell them apart because I do know them as individuals. I know that they react to situations in unique ways, talk differently, and about different things, etc. I know that ever since she could hold a crayon, Anya calms or centers herself by drawing. On the other hand, Eva does better being off on her own for a few minutes. Eva likes to take charge and Anya likes to know what her sister is doing. So, as their individuality rises to the surface more and more, I have been feeling increasingly skilled at telling my children apart.
At least I was until a few nights ago. We were taking advantage of Portland Museum of Art’s free admission on Friday night. My wife, Deb, and I had been looking forward to showing the girls the paintings and sculptures. They were sort of interested, but really they were much more impressed by the cool benches for visitors to sit on than the actual art. We moved quickly along, hoping to find something that would capture their imagination.
Eventually, we found ourselves in the children’s room of the Mclellan House. After a few minutes of playing, Anya announced a trip to the potty was necessary. So she and Deb headed off, leaving Eva and me to play with the old fashioned kids’ toys for a few more minutes.
One of the exhibits included a paper, a pencil and a magnifying glass which Eva picked up and used to inspect the stuffed bear she had brought with her. “Let’s see, what do we have here? Ah, two ears,” she said. And she proceeded to draw a great picture of her little bear. I was surprised, because Anya is usually more drawn to art. Anyway, as she drew we chatted, and I enjoyed spending a few quiet moments alone with her. Soon I realized that we should get going and meet up with Deb and Anya. On the way to the front of the museum we talked some more. The minute we found the other ladies, Eva had to go to the bathroom. So off we went.
Finally the four of us were together again, getting ready to leave. I kept trying to hand Eva her coat, but she wouldn’t take it. She was using that little kid language that involves no words, only twisty worm-like movements combined with high pitched noises that remind me of angry dolphins. Noticing my troubles, my wife looked over, chuckled, shook her head and said “You know that’s Anya don’t you.” And sure enough, it was.
Brian Clark is the father of twin girls and is program manager for the STRONG Fathers Network, which supports men in their efforts to be skilled, active and strong parents. It is funded by York County Community Action Corp., and The U.S. Dept of Health and Human Services. Brian’s views and opinions do not necessarily reflect the views of YCCAC.