Today, a friend of ours offered us a midafternoon lift to the supermarket. I don't usually go there but today it seemed like a good idea, so I went, leaving Iyyar and Avtalyon with Abba and bringing Barak.
We finished our shopping first and spent a few minutes sitting on the bench behind the checkouts. String cheese had been on sale, so I'd bought some (for the first time in months) and Barak was enjoying one while we hung out waiting.
"Imma, know what, Imma?"
"What?"
"You, and me, and Abba--we're not twins."
"No, you're right, we're not."
"But if... if you had a pink shirt and I had a pink shirt, den we would be twins."
"Oh, is that how it works?"
"Yeah. I sink so. I sink dat's how it works."
"Hmm. So, see that lady over there?" I pointed at a heavyset black woman in a fuchsia tank top.
"She's wearing a pink shirt." I looked around. "Also her. See that lady? She's wearing a pink shirt too." Young, thin Hispanic woman in a light pink t-shirt. "They're twins, right?"
Barak looked doubtful. "No, I don't sink so. Because her pink shirt is light and her pink shirt is dark. Dat's why dey're not twins."
Okay then.
2 comments:
My 8YO - who knows that twins share parents and a birthdate - still calls it 'being' twins when she and I (or girls in her class) dress alike. So for all that it sounds funny, he may have heard it used that way in the first place.
I...had no idea it was that easy. And silly me went and gestated two kids at once.
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