Saturday, January 3, 2009

How can it be 2009 when I'm still talking about Christmas?

Oh, Owen...

My little fighter, my Baby B, the smaller baby, the "donor", the shrink-wrapped one, the one so happy to have some room after my 21st week that he'd scoot around my belly frustrating multiple nurses' attempts to pinpoint him with the doppler thingamajig at my weekly prenatal appointments.

The second born (by one minute), the one who missed being categorized as "low birth weight" by a 1/2 ounce, the one who had trouble breathing, the one who I didn't get to see until the day after he was born, the one who got banished to the NICU, the one who had to stay a few more days in the hospital after we'd already brought his brother home.

The one who didn't want to nurse, the one who didn't want to nap, the one who threw a full-out tantrum the first time he tasted ice cream because I didn't give him a second spoonful fast enough.

The one who will only eat pasta and corn, the one who insists on being carried down the stairs when he gets up in the morning, the one who attaches himself to my body like an extra appendage when anyone comes over to our house to visit.

That is my Owen...he is one ornery little fellow.

So, pray tell me, why was I surprised by the horrendous tantrum he had when I tried to get cute pictures of all the kids wearing Santa hats for our annual Christmas card?




Because he has a goofy identical twin who loved the experience, that's why.





They've got the same nature, they've got the same nurture....nonetheless, they have absolutely opposite personalities. At least when it comes to their hat preferences.

Life with twins...hopefully I'll figure out their personality quirks in time for next year's Christmas card. But I'm not counting on it.

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