“I did it last time! It’s Laken’s turn!” Yasmine insisted.
It was an argument only a twin could have. Who’d be the one to do the dreaded task of…trying on clothes. I have to admit, there were days it might be convenient to have a body double. Although it’s more likely I’d use them to do more dreaded tasks than model clothing.
With Yasmine being the fashionista’ of the two, we all knew it was only a matter of time before her resistance dissolved. On Christmas morning, instead of fleeing to the discarded boxes immediately, as most two year olds would, she went for the clothes. Layering each item without removing the prior ones, like a homeless person sporting all earthly possessions.
Her fascination with clothing elevated their dresser drawers to favorite toy status. Every item removed for daily examination, trying on and discarding. Laken participated in this ritual, but more for the opportunity to create a series of stairs out of the drawers and climb to the top where binkies and other forbidden treasures were stored.
People recoiled upon viewing the room, demanding to know who trashed the nursery. I contemplated the criminal culprit who would ignore the valuables and instead obsess upon tiny garments and then succumb to an irresistible compulsion to generate a clothing cyclone. I’d explain the perpetrator were those tiny, twin tornados; capable of creating massive messes in mere minutes. Most responded with disbelief, believing my housekeeping skills to be inferior and judging me with disdain for placing the blame upon innocent babes.
“Do you like it, Laken?” Yasmine modeled and Laken nodded while preoccupied with something more interesting.
“Will you wear it?” I knew she’d say yes in fear she’d be required to try something on. Besides, I’d still buy two, for otherwise, the fighting would commence. They may never wear it, but they want the option— ifthey ever desired to. Like the treadmill many utilize as a clothing rack—because you never knew when you might use it.
While Yasmine would only wear dresses, Laken refused to wear anything but purple sweat suits. Taking the route of least resistance, I housed a wardrobe of these. My fantasies of dressing my darling girls in cute matching outfits were squelched within a year when their fierce independence reared its head.
After several attempts to persuade Laken to expand upon her purple, knit attire, I thought I’d finally bought a dress that met both of their clothing criteria. I gleefully held up the adorable dress that I’d scoured stores to find two their size (another twin dressing challenge—there are never two in the same size).
Laken looked upon me with the pity of someone much older than her four years but maintained the tactlessness of youth in responding, “You know I’m never going to wear that.”
“But, it’s soft and…it has a poodle on it,” I muttered, deflated. She shook her head with the exasperated look I thought I wouldn’t witness until her teen years; at her mother’s foolishness.
Who was I to think I had more fashion sense than a four year old.