A few weeks ago, Annalee stayed home from preschool. I wouldn’t say she was sick exactly. She was tired, and she really didn’t want to go to school, so I let her stay home. “I’m tired, mommy,” she said in her sweet voice. But by the end of the day, she was missing her sister and her classmates. Margo came home with two Christmas cards that she had made–one for herself and one for Annalee. The Annalee card said “Hello Annalee, Margo,” and it had an orange puppy drawn on it. (I will remind you that the girls are 4! I was impressed!)

When Margo presented the card to Annalee, Annalee got very upset. “I don’t like that it says Margo on it!” She cried. Screamed. You might call it a meltdown. I tried to reassure her. I told her that it’s standard to sign your name at the end of a card, but she wasn’t having it. Also, Margo didn’t mind. She grabbed a green marker and carefully crossed out her whole name. Proud, she gave the card back to Annalee.

“I don’t like orange puppies.” Rejected again. But Margo still wasn’t bothered. She took the card back and carefully colored over the orange puppy in green. She presented the updated card to her twin sister.

“I don’t like the orange line.” (the one going through the A) Rejected again. Again, Margo wasn’t bothered. She colored over the final orange line in green, and she once again presented the card to Annalee.

Finally, Annalee accepted it. She loved her new card, and the girls went to bed uneventfully.

Later that night, when Sam and I were chatting before bed, he said “that was pretty savage what Annalee did with the card.” At the moment, I agreed. It did feel a little savage.

But as I thought about it more over the following days, I realized that this actually wasn’t savage at all. It was beautiful. Annalee asked for what she needed. Margo didn’t mind giving it to her. And together, they found a solution that worked for both of them. I’m proud of Annalee for expressing her needs, and I’m proud of Margo for not getting bothered by the requests to update the gift.

People often ask me if the twins have their own language. Honestly, I don’t know because usually when they play nicely together, I’m too exhausted to pay attention. But perhaps this is their language. Closely intertwined. Often unspoken. Quick to fight but also quick to forgive. As if they are an extension of themselves. A bit savage in their love. The only kind of love I want around here.