Having twins is tough, but rewarding. My boys are presently seven years old and chock full of Irish blarney and even more mischief.

Twin A, aka Weapon X, aka C, is wild and devilish and likes to watch buildings explode on YouTube and build space ships with laser guns. He will probably be Special Forces someday. Munitions, of course.

Twin B, aka Project Alpha, aka D, is methodical, sneaky, and likes to be in charge and to “see what happens if I do this”. He also likes the ladies, and picks up chicks everywhere he goes. He is into sniper rifles and watching large ships sink. He will probably be a lawyer, or an evil scientist.

My brother gave them those oddly prescient nicknames (Project Alpha and Weapon X) when I was pregnant.

They both have Childhood Apraxia of Speech, for which they receive speech therapy four times a week, and which I work constantly at with them.