The last weeks of four

It’s just four weeks until the twins turn five, and on that very day they’ll also head off for their first day at school. These are the sort of weeks that have wings. Wings that mean they soar past you with a whoosh that’s fun and exhilarating, but that leaves you dazed and short of breath.

Our days are packed and we seem to be ticking off milestones before I have time to take them in and savour them. This week alone has seen Fonz swim his first width (thanks to a week’s crash swimming course) and shoot off on his bike without stabilisers, while Ez sounds out words and can’t get enough of writing. All this is sandwiched into a hectic routine of meeting up with friends and playing out.

I’m sure I say it every year, but this has been our best year yet. This age quite simply rocks. They are just the best company, both for us as parents but also for each other. Sure they bicker, but they also offer each other the most fantastic companionship; seeing their bond deepen is an absolute privilege. They offer each other reassurance when they’re scared or anxious without even realising it. You can watch them edge physically closer to each other, and then maybe join hands or put an arm round each other. It’s completely unconscious. I can’t imagine that feeling of someone always having been there, and the total belief that they will always be there. I can’t help it, it brings a lump to my throat, and tears to my eyes every time I’m lucky enough to witness it.

These last weeks before I hand them over to school, before I have to share them, to relinquish so much of the time we spend together, seem so precious, and yet the pace of life means they’re slipping past in a blur. I have no doubt that this is a good thing. Our days are full of fun, and so I don’t have time to dwell on the sadness about our pre-school time coming to an end. When the emotion does take over, I scoop one or both of them up and make them promise to let me call them my babies forever (obviously they are hugely indignant at the suggestion they are babies), but they know me well enough to indulge me, and roll their eyes at each other at the daftness of their mum.

What can I say? My babies are growing up, and it’s exciting and heart-breaking in equal measure.