My Siamese Twin and I have a Special Connection

Me and Ezra.  If we were elephants.

I'm pretty sure I'm a Siamese Twin.  I know this is the sort of thing you usually discover before you are 33.  It's not like being adopted.  Or a werewolf. Those things can be kept from you your whole life and BAM! the Cullens move to town and your whole identity is different.  I think my Siamese Twinism is like that.  Life was totally cool and BAM! two years ago I gave birth to a little boy who never.detaches.himself. from my body.  The only logical explanation is, of course,  that we are Siamese Twins separated by thirty-one years.

I know what you are thinking, "Why isn't there a made for t.v. movie about your life yet?"  I know. I'm a little disturbed myself.  I guess more people care about the Bachelorette (*spoiler* - they don't stay together - I have this on good authority based solely upon COMMON SENSE) than a modern day medical miracle.

The weird thing?  We are not connected at any specific point.  We don't share any major organs, veins, or appendages.  We often do, however, share my meals.  We have Roving Siamese Twinism, which I just made up and does not exist but I bet I could find on Wikipedia if I put it there.

One time we are consistently separated is when I (think I) sneak out the back door to grill our dinner. I slide closed the glass doorwall, feeling like a stealth ninja, and do my business.  Alone. (Not that business.  I never do that business alone.)

This is incredibly awesome and freeing until I try to reenter the house and realize my Siamese Twin is sitting on the floor behind the now closed and locked doorwall, laughing hysterically because he is 23 and 3/4 months old and knows how to lock and deadbolt Mama outside.

This is when I usually question my life decisions that have brought me to the point where I am saying, "Ha-ha, Dude, you're hysterical.  Now let Mama in.  Ezra, honey, unlock the door.  (Enter logic/reasoning with an almost 2 year old) Dude, your hot dog* is getting cold, Buddy.  (He totally doesn't care.  Hot dog?  He holds the power.)  Let Mama in, Bud.  (Switching tactics)  Go get Eve, Dude. (Because he obviously wants to let me in, he just doesn't remember how locks work and needs help from an older sibling) Bud! Open. the. door. (He is still giggling because maybe he didn't hear me.)  EZRA, DUDE.  UNLOCK THE DOOR AND LET MAMA IN!"

We make awesome neighbors.

*Don't judge me.  I grilled it.  It's practically health food now.