Yeah, we’re only 7 weeks in and this celebrating-the-twins’-age-two-days-in-a-row thing is pretty old. What are we going to do when they’re old enough to care? I’m going to buy a Baskin-Robins’ ice cream cake on the 9th, let everyone sleep, then wake everybody up at 11:50 PM so we can enjoy it into the 10th, that’s what.
My twins have done nothing to put me off of my own personal theory regarding the sexes. Guys are simple, if not stupid; women are complicated, if not… stupid. Look, it’s a different kind of stupid and you all know exactly what I’m talking about. What I mean is Cole is transparent. He’s hungry or dirty. That’s it. Avery, though? She’s a little more nuanced than that. Most specifically, though she does enjoy a bottle and a diaper change, both of those experiences take a back seat to simply being held by another human being. Avery specifically has a special talent for knowing when she’s about to be released by a human and placed into a padded holding device. It’s as if she’s got a built-in level that runs an alarm once the angle formed by the ground or floor and her back and head falls below 38.5 degrees. It’s uncanny. Also, she’s like her sister and mother in her high-maintenanceosity. She tongues out the bottle 4 or 5 in a row as a protest against formula, to convey her preference for boob juice.
One day very early on in Avery’s life, I looked at her and shouted “Murray!” “What?” Lynnette said. “She looks like a Murray,” I said. “What?” Lynnette said. I explained to her that she looked like a 60-year old man with that scowl own her face. The way her hair originally looked like that of a middle-aged balding man. She looked like the kind of man who would wear a trench coat or Members Only jacket with “Murray” stitched across the left chest. Lynnette didn’t get it. I even came up with a voice to celebrate “Murray Face”. It sounds like a cross between Vanessa Bayer’s Jacob the Bar Mitzvah Boy and Meowth, the lone talking Pokemon.
As you know, I don’t believe Avery looks particularly like anyone in either the Pascua or Higa families. It was my mom who made me realized that I had not accounted for the one person she does resemble – if not in appearance, then in manner. My mom told me that she was talking to her sister about the twins. In describing Avery, she mentioned that I called her Murray. When my aunt asked my mom why, she first mentioned the scowl. “Oh!” my aunt said. “Just like Papa Joe.” I laughed. I couldn’t stop laughing. She was right. “Lynnette!” I said. “What? she said (I realized she’s said this quite a bit in this entry). “It’s Papa Joe. Murray is Papa Joe.” “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Lynnette said. It was always there: the Members Only jacket. The hair. I was describing Papa Joe and I didn’t even realize it.
“Of course this would happen to me,” I said. “What do you mean?” Lynnette asked. “I’m a fan of irony, remember?” “Yeah, so?” she said. “We named the other one ‘Joseph’,”I said.