The Mrs HTF has a twin sister. My brother and sister are twins. I’m AWFULLY lucky we didn’t have twins. Although our oldest son does sometimes makes us feel like we’re dealing with unruly triplets, when it’s only him doing the skullduggery. (yep, I just said a word that you should totally use all the time)
Traci’s twin sister is here visiting us. We’ve spent some time together over the years since her clan lived only about 4.5 hours away from my herd. The kids get along great, and act, well, the way cousins should . . . which sometimes results in boisterous laughter interrupted occasionally by serious injuries. There are 4 kids in our group and 5 in theirs, so we can field a terrible, but almost totally potty-trained, baseball team. We’re kind of a sight to see when we roll somewhere together. It looks more like a daycare field trip than two families out and about. The kids are pretty close in age. And the two sisters look pretty similar according to most folks, so I often lie in wait to see people start talking to my sister-in-law as if she were the marvelous Mrs HTF. Makes me totally wish I had a twin. He would go to lots of meetings at work for me and also he’d spend entire Saturdays doing yard work at my house while I was watching football somewhere.
When my wife and her sister are together though I get to see some really disconcerting twin dynamics (DTDs). Think for a second about the bizarre conversations you have with yourself in your head about, say, what to wear to church or how to decorate a room. Seriously, how do those conversations go? Here’s my guess – they are scarily blunt, they skip entire phrases because some things are just “understood” by the “two” parties, they may seem like actual fights at times, but you never actually offend yourself. You actually end up liking yourself at the end of these mental debates. Well, with my wife and her twin sister they have the exact same types of discussions, but they do it out loud. Don’t worry though, they limit the topics of their debates to, well, everything.
It’s interesting . . . from a safe distance. I’ve learned never to interrupt or even worse, to get involved in the discussion. Not only would I not be able to keep up, but I’d walk away feeling deeply offended and/or utterly confused.
So the next time you’re trying to decide what to wear on your night out, imagine those thoughts being “out loud” and well . . . laugh at me. And if you see my twin, please send him back – there’s weeding to do.