I was always fascinated by twins when I was younger, even though I didn’t grow up around any. So when I had twin boys — especially in a family where no one, not even in the extended circle, had ever had twins — it felt like something magical was happening.
I had heard about the special bonds that twins share, and I was excited to witness that up close. I thought it would be like watching a fascinating story unfold.
My sons are 13 now, but they have been mostly inseparable since birth. When they were babies, they hit milestones within days of each other. Through the years, they’ve shared rhythms, reactions, and inside jokes that didn’t need explaining. They understood one another in a way that didn’t always require words.
They’ve enjoyed the same toys, the same games, and sometimes they even share the same expressions. I remember once, when they were around 5, they were sitting at a small table eating dinner, dressed in matching T-shirts, moving almost in sync. My cousin walked in, paused, and said, “It looks like he’s eating in front of a mirror.” And she was right. Their resemblance went beyond their looks; there was something deeply intertwined about the way they existed in the world.
Their bond is something I have cherished and been amazed by, and I still am. But they’re growing up, and I know they need to honor their individuality as well.
We unintentionally encouraged their sameness
In many ways, my husband and I made it easier for our boys to stay as one unit for a long time. When they were younger, I admit I leaned into the twin aesthetic, opting for matching outfits, the same shoes, the same everything. Part of it was practical. No decisions. No comparisons. I didn’t have to decide who looked better in what. It was adorable, and it symbolized the bond I loved watching grow between them.
The same thing happened with activities. If one joined swimming, the other joined, too. If one tried taekwondo, so did the other. It made logistics easier, and the boys seemed happiest together, so we never questioned it.
But then, as they grew, small moments began making me pause.
Courtesy of Neelma Faraz
Closeness began to shape their choices
A few years ago, one of them fell ill on the day of a birthday party they had both been invited to. The other one had been looking forward to the celebration all week — talking about it, planning his outfit, picking the gift. But the moment he realized his brother couldn’t go, he simply said, “Then I won’t go either.” No hesitation. No discussion.
Later, when their teachers asked students to start thinking about possible subject interests for their board years, I saw the same pattern repeat. Instead of exploring what each of them genuinely liked, their first instinct was to check what the other had chosen.
Their choices weren’t just about preference — they were about togetherness.
That’s when it clicked for me: Their bond was beautiful, but it was also shaping their identities. Maybe a little too much.
We’ve been gently making space
I didn’t want to break their bond. I didn’t want to push them apart. I wanted to make room within it so they could grow without losing each other. So we began with small shifts.
When I liked a clothing style, I began buying it in two different colors instead of identical outfits. I let them choose who got what. They never argued; one picked one color, the other picked the other. No competition, no issues. Just a quiet, natural separation of preferences.
We also talked — casually, not forcefully — about how liking different things or choosing different subjects wasn’t the same as leaving someone behind. That individuality wouldn’t weaken their connection, but it could enrich their own experiences.
And when sports trials came around at school, we encouraged them to try what they were drawn to, not just what they could do together. One made the football team. The other was selected for basketball.
It made our routines harder: two practice schedules, two drop-offs, and keeping track of two sets of gear. But supporting individuality isn’t something only children learn. Parents have to learn it, too.
They can have it all
Their bond is something rare. I’m grateful for it every day. I don’t want to undo it, and I don’t think I could even if I tried.
I just hope they grow up knowing that you can love someone deeply and still be your own person. You don’t have to mirror someone to stay close to them, and it’s important to step out of a fixed comfort zone.
One day, their worlds will naturally expand with new schools, new friends, and new experiences. And when that happens, I want them to move forward knowing they will never have to choose between being together and being individuals. They can have both.
