Double the fun

Yes, the twins came for a weekend visit sans parents this time. Sure we can cope! Our own kids survived to adulthood, didn't they? Without incurring post-traumatic stress disorder???

They are a delight to be around, but the trouble is that every time we see them they are a little bit older, more independent, more curious, and generally more likely to go where they shouldn't.

Turn your back and they're up the stairs. Of course they aren't allowed to go on them by themselves. And when they do, it's supposed to be on their hands and knees (up) and bottoms (down) - and not standing up holding the banisters...

If there's a drawer, door, or cupboard, they'll open it. And take things out: torches, ceramic bowls, ice packs, cod liver oil capsules, Warhammer warriors (who haven't seen daylight in 10 years)... We really need to tighten up our child-proofing protocols.

In the garden they want to (a) find a stick each and (b) stir it about in the pond - which, needless to say, they should not go near without an adult escort, but which acts like a magnet.

The other magnet outside is the greenhouse - full of hazards such as spades and rakes precariously propped up against the shelving. A sliding greenhouse door is no obstacle. They run back calling "Ah-towww" (not quite in unison but repeatedly and insistently), which we eventually translate as "Where have the tomato plants gone?" (Answer: they're in the compost bin!)

Their curiosity is boundless. One of them presents Uncle Ben with a snail he has found. Ben (who really doesn't do wildlife) grits his teeth and accepts it before chucking it as far away as possible as soon as they aren't looking.

Upstairs Oscar, when not jumping up and down on the bed, decides to unravel a metre or so of dental floss and Franklin is waving the alarm clock around, oblivious to the fact that it's breakable. For some reason my holiday notebook is fascinating but the receipt from my online booking for the Alcazar in Seville is deemed expendable and ripped in half. The guitar case is opened without hesitation but is needed again as soon as each child has had a go at strumming. I still don't know where the plectrum went.

And they are altogether more assertive. After a trip in the car they refuse to leave until they have sat in the front and pressed all the buttons. (At least I remembered to remove the keys, so only the hazard lights worked.)

They demand to have a go at everything with an insistent "Do it! Do it!" (="Let me do it") whether it's cutting a tomato up or peeling a satsuma, followed by yelling if you refuse to let them. After his toast-and-banana breakfast Franklin spots the Cheerios in the kitchen. I give him his bowl and explain that he needs to sit up at the table to eat Cheerios (like yesterday). But no - he wants to eat them in the living room.

Before I know it, he's marched to the far end of the kitchen with his bowl and commenced the yelling. To be joined almost immediately by his brother, also yelling and also clutching an empty bowl. Collective action! They'll be appointing a shop steward next! (P. S. They didn't have Cheerios that day.) Fortunately it is still fairly easy to distract them with, e.g., Peppa Pig, Finding Nemo, or Toy Story.

Oh the exciting journey of growing up, in which it is a total privilege to have a small part.

Twins Rock!