Friendly indifference

I had always figured that Matthew and Jonathan's friends would easily be able to tell them apart.
Isn't that part of the magic of childhood? This extra sense that kids have, the lack of filters that allow them to see things as they are?
So I was disappointed the other day at preschool when Matthew's best friend tapped Jonathan on the shoulder and called him by his brother's name. Jonathan ignored him expect for the shrug indicating his annoyance at the constant interruption.
I politely pointed out his mistake and directed him to Matthew who just right next to Jonathan.
The boy gave me a puzzled look and then tapped Jonathan on the shoulder again.
"Matthew, Matthew. Come play," he said, his taps increasing in frequency. "Matthew."
I gave up.
These are the things I worry about.
It will be hard enough when adults mix them up as they grow older, but their friends?
I recently read about a 7-year-old girl who was shunned by a group of her peers for no apparent reason. She later learned that her identical twin sister had done something to upset them. They didn't change their stance when she explained the situation.
They chose not to differentiate between the two.
Jonathan and Matthew enjoy having different friends, though they all play together nicely. I hope that this boy is an exception. Another friend, the one Jonathan claims as his closest, tries. He doesn't always get it right, but he at least makes an effort.
If he is unsure, he figures it out within few minutes of play.
A little girl who greets us daily when we enter the classroom always asks me who is who first thing. She wants to be clear. She's always felt that need to know who is who.
I haven't paid enough attention to the others.
I have told the boys over and over again that people will mix them up and that they should forgive them. Simply correct them and forgive them. But I think I might have to revise that tutorial when they outgrow preschool and begin their elementary years.
We all make mistakes.
People will mix them up.
But if they are not sure, they should ask.
And if Matthew and Jonathan politely correct them, they should apologize and make an effort in the future.
I guess all I'm asking for is an effort.
Try to see Matthew.
Try to see Jonathan.
They are two boys, not one.

Rules of engagement

I've never seen Jonathan quite so stunned.
We were at my daughter's tumbling class Monday evening and the twins were playing with a few other toddlers and preschoolers in the observation area. Jonathan wanted a train that the other boy was playing with.
So he did what he always does.
He made an offering.
And the boy declined again and again and again.
Jonathan didn't know what else to do.
So he just sat there.
He sat there and he stared.
Eventually, he found his toy school bus and rejoined Matthew, racing the buses up and down the floor.
You see, Jonathan and Matthew have an understanding. If Jonathan wants Matthew's toy, he keeps offering Matthew something else until Matthew trades. Matthew negotiates in the same way with his twin.
It's quite diplomatic ... most of the time.
But this boy wasn't buying it.
He had the favored train and he wasn't about to let go.
This twinese thing isn't just about language.
As Jonathan and Matthew grow older, they are developing their own ways of accommodating and playing with each other.
They understand each other's intentions with simple nods and gestures.
They play games with each other's plates at the dinner table and only they know the rules.
They make faces at each other and start laughing, clearly referring back to some event or memory that they share.
With one word, one twin engages the other in a preconceived game.
I watch them and I envy them.
I can't imagine what it must be like to know someone so well.
But, at the same time, I fear for them.
This bond, the bond that makes them unique, will also hurt them sometimes.
At some point, they will have to learn the hard way how to let others in. They won't always be able to ignore the boy with the train and turn to their built-in playmate for social comfort. Sometimes, they will have to learn to pick up another toy and figure out how to play with him.
They will not always have each other and it's not healthy for them to know only each other deeply.
So, as they grow, we will have to guide them as best we can without compromising their bond. Their bond has allowed them to skip the stage of parallel play, where toddlers play near each other, observe each other in play, imitate each other and, in doing so, learn social codes of engagement that lead to friendship.
We will have to walk them through it.
Now, if only I knew the way.

More than twins: friends

One day several weeks ago, Jonathan took me by the hand and pulled.
"Come on, Mom," he said, leading me toward the room he shares with Matthew. "Come on. Play."
And I did.
This method of manipulation was new to Jonathan and he was thrilled that it had worked.
So, after that first incident, he started pulling me everywhere--to his room, to the basement, to the front door, to the refrigerator. His glee at his successes was irresistible, so I complied whenever possible.
Then, one day, I saw him reach for Matthew's hand.
"Come on, Matty. Jonny's bed. Play," he said.
Matthew appeared stunned for a moment and he would not take Jonathan's hand. But when his brother repeated his request, Matthew followed. Jonathan decided that was good enough. He dropped his hand to his side and simply led the way. They played for almost an hour, jumping on their beds and crashing back down in unison.
That was the day the dynamic began to change.
In the old days (like about two weeks ago), Matthew and Jonathan would go separate ways when freed from their stroller in large play areas. Jonathan, the social one, would seek out an occasional playmate. Matthew preferred to play on his own. Toward the end, when they both grew tired, they would come together and play.
That's how I knew it was almost time to go.
No more.
I first noticed it at the playground last week. After a few minutes of independence, Jonathan sought out Matthew. "Come on, Matty. Come slide," Jonathan said, starting out in the direction of his favorite slide.
Without hesitation, Matthew followed.
And for the rest of our time there, Jonathan led the way.
The same thing happened at the YMCA toddler pool yesterday.
"Come on, Matty. Jump in water."
"Come on Matty. Eat Goldfish (the crackers, not the real thing)."
"Come on. Matty. Swim."
And again at the Children's Museum today.
"Come on, Matty. Tunnel."
"Come on, Matty. Roll balls."
"Come on, Matty. Sand."
Where Jonathan went, Matthew followed and he followed willingly.
I'm sure the day will come (soon) when Matthew tires of being the follower and the two struggle over who gets to lead. But that's okay. The point--the thing that makes me so happy inside--is that Matthew and Jonathan find each other to be worthy playmates outside of the home when there are so many other kids to choose from.
They are become far more than brothers.
Like their older brother and sister who are often inseparable, they are becoming friends.