Two thirds

I once wrote a lengthy blog post on the identical pair's relationship with each other vs each one with fraternal brother Tsega. At the time, although I was noticing the blossoming of identical twinisms between the pair, something that was not apparent during infancy and early toddler hood, such as shuffling together in step, there did not appear to be a tighter bond than what each had with Tsega. Indeed, when the babies began moving about more Bereket considered any brotherly contact antagonizing (see that blog post here). Yet blogging often cast spells and no sooner had my post hit the net when things changed.

Example. This morning Bereket climbed into my bed to find Sira and Tsega sleeping. He climbs next to Sira and starts patting and kissing him and whispering alien nonsense in his ears. He'd never do that to Tsega. Sometimes the pair gain up on Tsega. Poor little dude. He is at times a bit of an outsider to Bereket-Sira. So different than his identical brothers (yet he is the spitting image of his first mother) but prefers to be my little shadow. But they protect him too. They make sure he gets his share: What about Tsega? If they see him drifting apart during our walks, or getting too close to the oxbow that lines our driveway, because he loves to throw rocks down there, they get nervous and cry for him.

There is so much sameness between the "twins", such a profound connection, it's spooky. Even down to that funky toenail, which, BTW, Sira noticed for the first time the other day. He was pointing to it, telling me that he has no nail. But you do, I tell him, it's just a little funky, Bereket has it too, right on the same toe. Come here Bereket, show Sira. Then they studied their toenails seriously before hopping off together into trouble. (FYI, it's not that noticeable and not gross or anything . . . it just looks different than the rest of his toenails, kind of curved). They have the cutest feet and toes.

Anyway, so, yeah, they are definitely a tight bond. Yet Bereket is such an easy going, confident babe for long time now (not so during the teen months), and Sira . . . everything is I don't like or I'm scared of. He may even melt to the floor while proclaiming, I don't like anything! During rough spots I still get his 37 pound body into a sling which soothes his soul like nothing else can.





Tangent. These guys are obviously engrossed by something on video. Lately we started ending our day with the Grinch cartoon just before bedtime because bedtime has seen some heavy resistance. (Yeah, another example of my sloppy parenting.) They crack up and then go to bed like a dream. Last night they were mumbling the verse along with the narrator Boris Karloff. Sometimes they ask me to sing the Whoville carol before bed. Yeah, you got me on the lyrics. Da-hoo, ra-hoo, fa-hoo, la-hoo, something something Christmas time.

Scoot

We are loving the scooters. They're easy to ride and the boys look ultra cool. And they ride silently, no loud rolling sounds. I see skateboards in their future. I sort of have a soft spot in my heart for skateboard kids since they remind me so much of my small years during the 70s in Southern Calififornia and all the big kids in their OP pants and groovy feathered hair riding the streets. (If you haven't seen the documentary Dogtown and Z-Boys, get it -- the doc, not the movie based on the doc.) I wanted a big bad skateboard like my brothers but my parents got me this sick girly one (thanks guys!). But the skate kids scare me a little too since the ones around here, although adorable and fascinating, look like trouble (as if I was such a wholesome brat!). I'm a sucker for grace and moving the body as art. Guess it's rubbed off on the boys . . . they love to get funky.

Vogue

Wild things, fashionistas, models.



Here Sira is wearing a leopard print jumper layered with a tiger's mask hairband and a draping men's shirt. Notice the complexity of textures and the seamless flow from fitted to relaxed like a super heroic angel.



That was Sira's funky dance. He does it a lot.

Here we have a matching set.




The outfit is not complete without clay feet.


Tsega, always in a state of wardrobe distress -- the kid changes costume a hundred times a day -- is not pictured probably because he is nekked.

Wild Things

Whooping in the rain.


Double Rainbows.


We have about another month to enjoy our secluded piece of nature where wild things run free, naked, or dressed in costume.

Dot and line

The fabulous triplets had their four year wellness check up. I had two separate appointments since we couldn't fit in three at once and they are too crazy together in the appointment room anyway. Those little rooms, doctor, nurse, me, triplets boys . . . hell no. Our old pedi retired early and unexpectedly. I am sure our appointments accelerated her departure.

Tsega cannot keep his hands off the stethoscopes. I mean I tell him no, the doc tells him no, and he just can't stop. That is so Tsega. He once broke a picture off the wall there. He did that in a hotel room too (not to mention broke off the closet door during the same trip, although aided by his brothers). And he giggled wildly during the exam, so ticklish.

Sira and Bereket leaped around the room on all fours and barked. I wonder if mine are the only boys who love going to the doctor? They ask all the time to go. I gots owie, I need to go to the doctor! Even after a couple of nasty shots and some tears, they still asked to go back.

Anyway, all is well. And . . . drum roll please . . . what about those two shorties? Bereket, for the first time in his history, got a dot on a line on the height chart!!! He is officially in the 5th percentile for height! Sira just missed it by being almost an inch shorter. He is also about a pound lighter which oddly enough put him like tons behind Bereket on the weight chart. Both have always had a decent standing on the weight charts. Honestly, I don't know how Sira keeps weight on since he eats next to nothing at lunch and dinner. Indeed, he gets a pedi-sure now and then.

Tsega is smack in the middle for height (and he looks so tall to my eyes) and 90% for weight! All have lost many baby rolls in the last year and all are rock solid rippling with muscles. It's the Oromo in them.

Snuggled

Here they are snuggled in their beds. Fancy beds. They still sleep on their crib mattresses.


Sira now sleeps in Bereket's bed. I see he has Bereket's beloved "little pillow".


At first Bereket refused a bed mate, but seeing how upset Sira was to sleep alone in the dark, he invited him in. Now this is the way we put the two to bed. Of course we can't leave the odd man out, so Tsega's bed moved closer. Ohhh, the small years in the dark of night. A monster lurks . . .

Here they are snuggled in mom and dad's bed.


These two always find a way to be close.


Dad on couch because if all three end up here during the night, which isn't uncommon this summer, somebody's got to give it up (I find a pattern in the bad to contort my body more easily than Jerry). FYI, Sira and Bereket snore really loud. Funny, we just had our 4 year well check up and the doctor handed us some papers and on one, it said your child should always sleep in his own bed. Why?

Run away

Sira, your feelings were hurt, as they often are, you are sensitive, over small things I don't remember what. You were beat. I watched your little body saunter slowly down the long rocky driveway, shoulders rounded, head down. Your bare feet shuffling up dust. You're wearing nothing but little boy underwear, backwards, the elastic stretched out. A mouse mask is around your shoulder. What a bitter sweet site. My little boy is running away. I catch up with you, hold your warm body, say soft things. We pick flowers in the meadow for Grandma Di before turning back home. The world is alright again. Until we return and envy cries out. One by one I take each brother back to the meadow to pick more flowers. The world is good. Now can we eat?

Future pole vaulter

He loves animals, flowers, rivers, and princesses. But he is strong as an ox and throws his grace around like a cannonball. Picture it. My little dude tried pole vaulting, that is propelling himself down to the floor from on top of a stool, not with pole in hand (the end of a broom handle horsey, that is), but with pole in mouth. Gag, literally, gag. He's OK but his uvula is feeling it. I think he might have at least knocked a little sense down his throat? (Jerry who was so kind to make dinner while mama was out -- something he does 99% of the time anyway -- caught him in the act mid-air.)

Ewwww, really gross!