So it seems that in a rush, C&D have discovered the power of their imaginations. We pretend injuries that doctor puppets and play stethoscopes fix, we imagine scoops on our play cars and find trash to dump into the garbage can. Downstairs we pretend to read books that are upstairs (not so hard if their favorite books are memorized), and we decide that our toys need potties, baths, and naps. I am cook, chauffer, clean-up crew, boo-boo kisser, and now, actress.

Almost overnight, they have discovered the joyous possibilities of accusing the other twin of mischief (hopefully not to success) and finding reasons to try to persuade me that they shouldn’t nap (“not sleepy! David stay a-WAKE”) or sleep at night (you konw Carmen mastered this many months ago already).

They plan trouble, like when yesterday Carmen learned toward David and proudly let him smear oatmeal in her hair, or like when today they pushed their chairs toward the kitchen counter so they could each steal a D’Anjou pear.

They work, too. I find my clothes spread on the floor, lain flat as if someone was about to sort them. I suddenly have helpers at the co-op, each gravely pushing a laundry basket full of veggies while nectarine juice dribbles down my helpers’ chins. The checkbook is smartly referred to as “for the co-op.” And with great purpose, C&D slowly push the grocery cart up and down the Randall’s aisles, then quickly unload the cart at the register. When we walk to the car, David never loses his focus, his walk steady and careful, a firm grip on the cart’s wire rim. Today Carmen extracts a small bag from the cart and, as if the bag is weighted with rocks, drags a plastic bag full of nothing but a bottle Dimetapp and a bottle of eye drops along the pavement. Then I open the front passenger door, and with a great swing tosses the bag onto the seat. I pretend to be moderately impressed with her feat.

They’re growing taller, and stronger, and more confident. They can swing like monkeys from the bars at the park, their knees high. They climb the play structure’s chain ladders and haul heavy buckets full of pebbles around the playground. But the most growth has been all in their head, and when I’m not laughing or scrambling for a towel to wipe up the latest disaster, I can do nothing but laugh.