Sometimes (when I’m trying to cook dinner), Reid and Will cling tragically to my legs and cry to be held.
“Guys! I can’t hold you right now! One minute!” I said, trying to stir dinner on the stove while toddlers clung desperately to my leg.
Will shoved Reid. “This MY Mommy!” He yelled.
Reid stomped angrily. “No! Mine Mommy!”
“‘Dis MY Mommy!” Will insisted. “You get your Daddy!”
Reid shrieked. “No Daaa-aady!” He wailed, “Mine Mommy!”
I quit stirring my pot to squat down and comfort Reid and Will, who were melting into disconsolate toddler puddles. “I’m everyone’s mommy,” I assured them. “I can hug you both.” I put my arms around them.
They calmed down, each sniffling on one of my shoulders.
Twins have to share everything, especially Mommies.