I’ve mentioned the switch my children experience on a monthly (or daily) basis. Attached to that, or right next to it, is the leap frog. This could be a twin thing, or maybe it’s just my kids, but it seems just as we begin to worry about one falling behind, she surges us with a massive brain boost to outshine her sister, who had been doing better at a particular skill for months, if not her whole life.
Right now, Dulce is in a growing frenzy. I should have known, should have been prepared when over the past few weeks she became a little monster. Crying at anything, pushing back, yelling at me, giving me attitude over everything. I was about to buy her a bus ticket. As usually is the case, all the crying, wailing and screaming takes the place of the English language. Whoever is afflicted stops using words. We ignore it for the first few days, but by the time a week passes, we start getting worried. What if she’s lashing out because she can’t find the words to communicate?
Yeah, no. At least in this family, at three and a half, that is not the case. The next theory to be considered and then thrown out the window is that she’s miserable with us, we’re horrible parents, and we’re raising a spoiled brat. Those are a hard few days.
Then, presto chango. About elevenity billion new skills show up and the screaming tapers off. The girls take turns doing this, hence the leap frog.
During Dulce’s mammoth three-week tantrum, Lilly shined. She was sweet, advanced in language, docile, inquisitive. It was clear she was the twin out in the lead, developmentally.
Then within the span of a few days, Dulce gained on her and surpassed her. Dulce became better at memory games than Natalina, which has never been the case. She’s drawing faces more accurately and with more detail than Natalina, and we always thought Lilly had more skill with the pen. She’s coloring better than her sister, too. She’s even dancing better than her sister, and we’ve always called Lilly the graceful, rhythmic one.
I’m not worried about Lilly, yet. We’re in that magical stage where, although they still push me around mercilessly, at least they’re both sane. Once Lilly drops off that cliff, though, I’m sure I’ll forget and start to become anxious about delays or not giving her the opportunities she needs. Then, most likely, three days later, I’ll have a math-doing, reading-and-writing, totally advanced three year old. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but you get the idea.
I only wish the developments could come without the cryfests.
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