Two years later.

"Lula, wait honey, I'm trying to fix your dress." I smile at my sister, who is trying to play with my hair. "Go and play with Milo."

"But I don't want to play with Milo," she frowns.

"He wants you to play with him." I tell her. She grins and toddles off to help Milo build 'the highest tower'. 

Lula and Milo are twins. And my gosh can you tell. They're both exactly the same weight and height. They both have bouncy blonde curls and bright blue eyes. They both talk in exactly the same way. They've even been known to finish each others' sentences. It's almost unreal. 

The time at the moment is six in the morning. I always have to get up at this time to get the twins ready for school, get them breakfast and then take them to school. I also have to get myself ready as well. My school can understand it when I'm late, but if I just don't go it's unacceptable. I have to do well in school, as well as look after the family and the house. I want to do well in school. I've always wanted to be a fashion designer, so mending the clothes of toddlers is a start.

"Do you want honey or chocolate spread?" I ask the twins, putting down the dress and heading for the kitchen, where the toast has just popped up.

"Chocolate spread!" they chorus. I smile and hand them each a piece of toast. I already knew what they were going to say. They eat them quickly and run upstairs.

"Don't be too loud," I tell them. They can't be loud, because that'll wake dad up. Dad needs as much rest as he can get if he's ever going to get better. One high-pitched squeal and I'm upstairs behind them. "Shhh!"

"Sorry," they smile. 

"Milo, why have you got toothpaste in your hair?"

"Lula did it." he says. Lula's smile gets wider. Sigh. At least they're clean now. I'll just have to wait for the toothpaste to dry and brush it out of his hair. 

"Right," I tell them, putting a hand on their heads. "Your clothes are on your beds. Get dressed quietly and then come downstairs so I can do your hair, OK?"

They nod, smiles still on faces, and run into their bedroom. I shush them again and then walk downstairs to tidy up. It's not hard, really, looking after them. They've already been brought up to be neat and tidy, kind and to do as they're told. What more can I ask? They are only five. 

Carefully packing away the bricks, I notice a book. I just put it on the table because I think it must be a colouring book of theirs. 

Speak of the devil, or rather, two little devils, Lula and Milo come crashing down the stairs like elephants. 

Grabbing Milo, I tell Lula "Your shoes are on the wrong feet," and set to work coming out Milo's tangled hair. After doing the same with Lula, a dragged them both out of the house so as not to make them late for school.

The End

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