Who is Who?

Mary's?

or Kate's?

Without looking at the outside I know exactly whose lunch box I am opening. They never surprise me, one is reassembled and neat, food gone, hand wipe used, garbage removed. The other is a mess. Food remains, but not in the container, cheese ground into the seams, raisins in the pocket, the outside pocket, an apple core or orange skin, and always an unused hand wipe.

As in so much of their daily life, they are freakishly consistent, and so like their parents it shocks us still. One is methodical, the other scattered, one is thorough, the other speedy. Doing homework takes twice as long as it should; while one must choose the color appropriate pencil for every task (all apple questions are answered in red pencil) the other has colored everything on the page, including her name, in brown pencil, and is now moving on to the next task, but only after dabbing up the milk she spilled, on the homework, with her shirt.

My husband has never, in his entire life, turned in homework late, or with food attached. My homework was frequently eaten by the dog.