A strange phenomenon has already begun.
Much sooner than I expected it to.
Everywhere I go, I get the same question.
“Are they twins?”
At first, I thought people were joking.
But they weren’t.
And after taking some time to think about it, the reality of the situation has hit me.
At 22 months, Bronx only weighs 5 pounds more than his 4 month-old baby brother.
Currently, the stats are:
Bronx-17.5 pounds, Daegan-12.2 pounds.
They are one diaper and clothing size apart.
It’s like the baby version of The Twilight Zone.
It gets a little awkward when I explain to the curious bystander that they are not twins.
Because then they jump to this question:
“Are they both yours?”
Yes, they are both mine.
Then I watch the confusion set in as people try to do the math, and the numbers come up wrong.
Eventually I have to give their brain a break and go into details.
They are 17 months apart. The older one is just really small for his age.
Most of the time I have to add that Bronx was a preemie so I won’t have to go into how much of a medical mystery he is.
The times I haven’t added on the preemie disclaimer have left me at the mercy of comments like:
“Is he okay?”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“Do you feed him?”
Seriously. People have said this stuff.
These innocent public chats-turned-interrogations have started to wear on me.
Which is why I’m considering giving up. It just may be that the next time I go shopping, Bronx and Daegan will be getting matching outfits.
And when people ask if they’re twins, I’m just going to start saying yes.
What the hell, I may even put them in an audition for a Doublemint commercial.
It’s got to be easier than getting grilled by a swarm of strangers every time I leave the house.