simpatico

Because it refuses to be winter, I refuse to act like it's still February and I dragged the kids and the wife out for a walk tonight. It was pleasant if a bit cold. My ears were stinging red by the end of the first twenty minutes, and for a moment the clouds threatened to drench us with post-game ice-water rain, but overall the weather and the children all cooperated.
The twins were a little put out about being strapped into the stroller rather than low-riding in our new red wagon, but a couple of saltines were all it took to compensate. After the walk was over, the older kids had clambered out of the wagon, and before they were even up the front steps, Parker had a leg over the side of the wagon, looking up at me. He wasn't so much asking my permission or approval as he was giving his orders: now it is my turn.
Emily caught on and toddled over from her lawn wanderings. Parker pointed to the seat opposite him, approving of bringing a travel companion, and I rolled the wagon about, wheeling towards the sidewalk while Traci took the kids in to finish puzzles and get dinner out of the oven.
Our route took us as far as the neighbor's driveway, and while I executed the 180, I turned to look at the quiet passengers. Both were hunched over in their seats. At first, I thought they were trying to counter the intense force of our pivot, but then I saw them pointing and commenting towards the bottom of the wagon.
Quarter-sized holes in the floor beneath their sneakers revealed a rolling view of the sidewalk below, and both of these toddlers were entranced by the spectacle. They looked up at one another periodically to verify that the other had seen a particular rock or an impressive fissure pass beneath.
At first I thought that it was because they are twins. Then I remembered that all kids around eighteen months are great imitators, especially of kids around their same age. Though my two passengers were twins, that didn't make them any more similar than any two kids at that age. While some moments accentuate their sameness, they are more different than they are similar.
Their behavior is no different than that of middle-schoolers and high-schoolers hoping to gain group acceptance through sameness. What my twins do is the same, on some level, as I do when I feel pressured to update my gadgets, watch award-winning movies, or otherwise conform my lifestyle to some mysterious "norm." It's just that when I do it, it's not so cute.
The wagon rolled back into the garage, and I carried the twins, one on each arm, up the back steps. Emily cried because the ride was over and she doesn't know when the next one will be. Parker took it in stride and welcomed the warmer weather of the kitchen. I sympathized with both.