Today, for the first time, I felt like pretending I didn't know my kids.
I truly felt like just standing there, looking at the exhibits in the Air and Space Museum in D.C., and pretending I didn't know those two little two-year-old girls, running around the hallways and up and down the stairs, yelling like little wild American Indians. I wanted to walk away and let my husband deal with them.
I was tired. I was at my tether's end.
But then, so was my husband. For the last half hour we had been running after them everywhere, from one exhibit to the next, each one trying to catch a girl, only to find that they slipped through our hands, laughing their heads off, thinking it was a game. They each got lost from our sight at least once or twice, and we had to go looking for them, only to find them at the complete opposite side of the large, extremely crowded hall. They would dodge behind chairs, squat under low-hanging airplane engines that were too low for us to crawl under, hide in dark, quiet theater rooms, knowing we wouldn't come running after them in there in front of all the people, and take refuge in three-seated benches, in the middle of two strangers, and sit there like a little angel staring at us with a smile, knowing we couldn't pounce on them, there in between two adults. A number of times I had to dart after them in a mad dash when they ran for the long stairs.
And when did this happen? After we had spent about two and a half hours there, with the girls whining and crying on and off, even after having lunch. I sat them down on a bench finally, telling my husband that I wanted to give them a little energy to perk them up.
Two bites of peach, and they turned into little rockets.
Whoosh. They were out the room in a split second. Oh, the looks that we received, the laughs they got out of people, and the couples who stopped us and told us they have twins, too, and it gets better as they get older. Oh, boy.
After about half an hour of running after them like madmen, trying to catch them and put them in the stroller so we could head to the car, my husband stopped and told me he was tired. He had had enough. It was a real workout. I sat on a bench to rest, and the girls had the audacity to come and sign to me to get up. They raised their palms up into the air, making grunting noises, like one makes when one gets up. They wanted me to get up and continue running after them. It was a game to them! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!
I kept offering them more peach or leftover bagels, to get them to sit in the stroller, but they refused and ran off each time, in different directions. I would follow one to an exhibit, and later meet up with my husband who had found the other in another exhibit.
I finally got the idea to offer something they hadn't eaten today: raisins. That brought them both immediately to the stroller, and we were finally able to calm down and head to the door.
Asiya Akyurt lives in Virginia with her husband and twin daughters. She is an active MAS member with an ijaza (certificate) in Qur’anic recitation and tajweed, and enjoys teaching, interpreting and translating.