Twins present unique challenges in parenting. Identical twins particularly. They support one another regardless of the circumstances. Imagine, if you will, two little boys who have ventured to the playground just outside the apartment window, both proudly sporting their "big boy pants" rather than diapers. After a period of time spent joyously running around, yelling and screaming, and doing what little boys do, they return to the apartment, happy and exhausted. And one of them stinks to the high heavens. Closer examination reveals that Darling Angel 03 is the one that is the source of this incredibly unpleasant odor, having apparently ingested toxic wastes sometime within the last 24 hours. Mommy, disappointed that Darling Angel 03 didn't return to the house to take care of his business, begins to gather up the necessary supplies to deal with the mess, and starts what she hopes will be a conversation leading to better compliance in the future.
"Craig, did you poop in your britches?" "No." "Yes you did, I can smell it." "No." Mommy begins the cleanup process. "Look. See there? You did so poop in you britches." "No." Mommy has trouble dealing with the continued denial in the face of the overwhelming evidence. Mommy tries harder to wring an answer from Darling Angel 03. "Well, if you didn't poop in your britches, who did??" "Doo." Ah ha! The light comes on! He's going to blame his brother! Mommy decides to put a stop that nonsense RIGHT THIS MINUTE!
Mommy turns to (innocent, for a change) Darling Angel 02 and demands, "Drew? Did you poop in Craig's britches???" There is a pause while Darling Angel 02 looks at Mommy thoughtfully. And finally, a quiet response. "Yeah." Mommy, horrified, realizes she has just been soundly beat at her own game. Finally, seeing no other choice in the matter, Mommy shakes a finger at Darling Angel 02 and admonishes, "Well don't you ever do that again!"
Mommy retreats to the laundry room in embarassed defeat, realizing she was just outsmarted by a pair of not-quite 2 year olds, and wondering if it gets any worse than this. (It does.) Mommy deals with the smelly aftermath, chanting in a droning monontone, "I love my children I love my children I love my children. . . "