Which one’s the evil twin?

I’m quite sure it’s terribly bad form to declare your child to be Satan’s spawn, but that’s precisely how I felt when my daughters were small.  From the outset G was charming and compliant, whilst her twin sister E was anything but.  Her high-pitched scream curdled blood across a five mile radius, causing several complaints from neighbours as the ultra-sonic frequency of her cries set off a cacophony of barking dogs.  Nothing was right for E.  She was too hot, too cold, too tired, too alert, too hungry, too full.  As pretty G gurgled in her cot I became increasingly frustrated with the unhappy, angry ball of red-faced baby in the next bed.  I was frequently to be found weeping on my knees at her side, beseeching her to tell me just why she was making my life so difficult.  I was post-natal and rational thought didn’t come easily – unsurprisingly, she didn’t reply.   

We contacted the hospital to double-check we hadn’t inadvertently been handed the Devil’s own child.  Unfortunately continuity records confirmed she was definitely mine.  We tried everything – medical checks, dietary changes, cranial osteopathy, baby massage, classical music, organic sleepwear made from wool hand-combed from the underbelly of a Tibetan goat... 

Just as I was about to book the Vicar for an exorcism, the screams stopped.  Virtually overnight, at around a year old, Evil E became a sweet natured, agreeable, good humoured baby.  And guess what?  The horns began to grow on her sister instead.

Twins feature throughout history and mythology as the personification of good versus bad.   The evil twin is the backbone of popular plots from soap-land to Shakespearian theatre, and people frequently ask me which of mine is ‘the naughty one’.  Nowadays the girls exchange personalities on a daily basis, with neither occupying the naughty step on more than two days running, and my sister’s eight year old twins follow a similar personality-swapping pattern.    E is still a challenging child at times, but the air-raid siren scream can now be silenced in seconds and no longer does she fight all attempts at parenting control.  She’s a delight to be with and I am immensely proud of her feistiness.  An extremely affectionate girl, she will seek out my lap in order to rest her head against me and have me drop a kiss on her curls.  Of course, when she thinks I’m stroking her hair, I’m actually feeling for the return of those horns...

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