The crossover between dimensions can get pretty blurred when you're a grandparent to two year old identical twins. This afternoon, I was invited to follow our dynamic duo in a circuitous route around their house. I call it their house, because even though their parents pay the mortgage, the girls, along with their big sister, Speckly Woo, have staked an undeniable claim to the place. Every room displays evidence of their systematic and bloodless coup. Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, the circuitous route. Lounge to dining room to kitchen and lounge again, and each time I was handed a new toy to carry. In the end, I felt like one of those poor kids who made a hash of Crackerjack's 'Double or Drop'.
As if to emphasise who's calling the shots, they've recently taken to marching, just short of the goose-step, and shouting their intentions at a volume that would make any RSM call for mummy, between tearful sobs.
But I'm left wondering, if I find things becoming a bit blurry, how easy is it to maintain control whilst wearing a bucket on your head?