When they were babies, they were both on the baldish side, especially Mini Not Me, whose head had almost as much hair as his knees. Now they both have beautiful heads of hair, representing, among many things, interesting genetic mix. Mini Me's hair is light brown, with golden highlights and crazy curls, which (if she lets) can become beautiful ringlets. Mini Not Me, on the other hand, is dark blond, also with golden highlights, but pretty straight (with occasional curl thrown in for fun). As a result, they are both called Fluffies, but only Mini Me is called Curly; Mini Not Me, on the other hand, is called Blondie.
Like any decent American kids, they spent a decent amount of time traveling in cars. For Mini Me, it is Aba's car and Mommy's car; for Mini Not Me, it is Aba's car and our car.
Mini Not Me has very interesting color recognition system: he knows black; everything else is either orange or purple. "What color is Mommy's car?" "Our car is orange (or purple, depending on his mood)". In mundane reality, the said car is white.
My purse is considered by both of them something of the equivalent of the Aladdin’s cave; therefore, as soon as I show up, they usually proceed to turn it upside down and start hunting for treasures. Sometimes they get a surprise - something they did not see before; but usually those are the same items over and over again. That does not really deter them, as those items are usually the coveted prizes (it may also have something to do the fact that I have a “Princess Belle” wallet and “Play With Your Food” Calendar); but anything, even without obvious pictures, is fun and fair game. One time Mini Me got a hold of my wallet, emptied it of all contents (and believe me, it was quite full), and arranged everything into the known only to her sub-categories. Another time, when we were on the subway coming home, and she was getting a bit cranky, I, in a fit of desperation, took out my key chain and explained to her the meaning of every single discount card attached to it (again, I have a pretty decent number of those). She perceived it as a game of recognition, and now periodically likes to take that blessed key chain (which in itself is a Hogwarts crest) and name all the cards. On another subway trip, in the similar circumstances, I took out my calendar and just went over the pictures, explaining what was on it and how fruits and veggies were arranged to resemble the subject. She again perceived it as a legitimate reading material, and few times I spotted her filching that effing calendar out of my bag and reading it. Mini Not Me, on the other hand, once filched out my Politically Incorrect Guide to Constitution and attempted to read that one.
On our last outing, I noticed an interesting thing about Mini Not Me: he sits in his stroller with one leg bent at an angle and its ankle on the opposite knee. The first time I perceived somebody sitting like this was back in Moscow, when they were interviewing some English speaking foreigner. I have no blessed idea who that dude was or what the interview was all about, but that relaxed posture was burnt in my mind as an example of a free Westerner. And now Beloved Nephew, all of two years old, is sitting exactly like this in his stroller! All I can say is “thank G-d” – for many, many things.
Mine Me, as noted on many previous occasions, is a great member of our club (the club of oldest sisters, that is). She takes her responsibilities very seriously. So, one time, when I was giving both of them a bath, I saw her performing our "scrubby" song and routine on her brother - she was bathing him, using the song I composed for her, again in a fit of desperation, when she was less than eighteen months old. Let me tell you something - moments like this are more precious than rubies.