Well, the twins are seven! It is hard to comprehend. While they still want hugs when they fall. I still kiss them good night. I find mittens and fix zippers. But, as I look at them, running, playing and working at school, I realize that they are pursuing independence. The "I an do it, Mama!" has gone to ab unspoken realization, that they just do what ever it is they need, they don't have to show me or prove anything.
It hurts in a small way, but on another front, I cheer these victories. These were my preemies, my way early boys who were expected to have lengthy difficulties.
That is hard to imagine them as less than the normal little boys they are. I watch the mock gun battle with cap guns. I see them digging a whole to the center of the earth, running through a pasture with a magnet to find metal.
They are my happy, wonderful boys. They have grown away from the handicaps of their birth and merely go through what every active boy struggles with: being nice to their sister, sharing, finishing their dinner.
Happy birthday my beautiful boys!
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