I got tricked by a 3-year-old. It starts young; or maybe I’m getting old. I see a little princess for speech therapy. She is adorable, and precocious, and her mother dresses her and braids her to the 9’s every day. And, to make things hard for the rest of the world, her mom dresses her and her twin sister exactly the same. As far as I can see, the ONLY difference between these girls is that one speaks less clearly than her sister. Enter me. Enter speech therapy.
Now, you have to understand that every other child in the daycare (whichever daycare I go to) wishes that they could be the one chosen to go with Ms. Kathy for speech therapy. Because it looks like fun! So, when Twin B had had just about enough of her sister always being the chosen one, she decided to take matters into her own hands. When she saw me coming, she ran up to me in her 3-year-oldness and announced to me that she was ready to go with me.
Another thing you have to understand is that I can never, ever tell the difference between these girls. They are identical in the extreme. So my tactic is to stand at the door and wait for the right twin to come to me. Then I say her name, and take her by the hand to do a speech therapy session.
So this day when Twin B stood by the door and announced that she was ready to go, I grabbed her hand and proceeded to take her down the hall. She was looking a little suspicious, so I was on alert. I grilled her with questions such as, “What’s your sister’s name?” She was supreme in her ruse. She answered with her own name to the question.
The therapy session commenced. I thought: hmmmm. Her speech is sounding good today! Am I an excellent therapist? Or is this girl tricking me. The session went on. I snuck in a few more questions to see if I could trip her up. Not so. She was good. She even queried me about the bubble gum in my bag. She knew about my gum. Was that first-hand information, or had she heard about the gum from the real therapy patient?
The session went on. And then she choked. She let this comment slip: “Does (Twin A) do these words?”
I grabbed that girl by the hand and marched her back to her classroom. I exasperated to the teachers: “I’VE GOT THE WRONG TWIN!” They clutched their sides and laughed as hard as I’d ever heard them laugh. I grabbed Twin A by the hand and completed the therapy session with her.
I told her mom this story on the phone this morning, and we had a laugh together.