It was funny to talk about the twins making important decisions about their future the whole car ride home, only to find the two wrestling in the living room, acting very immature.
Mom put a hand to her head and looked away. "College? Them? What was I thinking?" She headed for the stairs. "Wayne, this one is all you."
Dad looked at the twins, who had to know that we were home, but were still wrestling. It was hard to tell who was winning when they were like this. Two identical people constantly on the move, trading positions and trading who had the power.
Dad sighed. "Isn't that enough?"
"No!" One of them shouted back, slapping one twin with the pillow.
I looked to Noah for help. "Who is who?"
Noah whispered. "Dave's in gray, Kyle's in blue." He named the color of their shirts, slowly backing up. "They're not stopping. Bad sign."
I didn't ask and backed up with him.
