Reading: A Christmas Carol to Daniel. This version is pretty good for kids. The abridgment is not too egregious, and helpful illustrations and explanatory notes abound.

Eleven

Although Matthew is technically the older by all of a minute and although, really, he is the same age as Stephen, he seems to have adopted the role of helpless youngest.

"I can't turn on the light!" Matthew hollers from the bathroom.

"I'll get it, Matthew," Stephen calls back and runs off to help. The twins are exactly the same height, but Stephen is more resourceful and can jump up and hit the light switch. Stephen is also the one to call me from their bedroom at night: "Mama! Matthew needs to be covered up!" or "Matthew needs a tissue!"

It's kind of sweet, but I worry sometimes that Matthew is becoming too dependent on Stephen to take care of his problems. I'm not sure what I can do, other than to keep encouraging Matthew to do things for himself. I don't want to quash Stephen's helpful impulses, either.

Of course, Stephen's willingness to help Matthew does not prevent the two of them from arguing over every little thing. In the car this morning, they were squabbling over some trinket.

"It's mine, Reno!" Matthew yelled.

"It's mine! I found it at Romp Around!"

"No, I found it it!"

"What is it?" I interjected.

Stephen handed me a tiny purple object that looked like half of a hollow, rubber ball. I sighed and gave it back. "It's a piece of junk, guys. Why are you fighting over it?"

They didn't listen to me, of course, but just continued to bicker. Finally, I'd had enough. "You guys need to decide who it belongs to. If you keep on fighting, I'm taking it away."

Silence fell in the back seat, then an intense, whispered conversation.

Stephen, ever the spokesman, reported their decision, "Matthew will have it, but he said I can hold it for eleven."

"Eleven?" I asked.

"Yeah, eleven!"

"Eleven what? Minutes, hours, days?"

"Eleven! You know: Eleven pipers piping!"

"Oh. Right."

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