TWINS

 Last night, my five-year-old came bursting through the door with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen.

“Mom! There’s a boy in my class who looks just like me! We’re going to be twins for Twins Day!”

He was glowing.

He told me they had the same eyes. The same hair. The same everything. He was so sure. So proud. So excited.

And the way he said it?

For a second, I believed it too.

After he went to bed, I grabbed my keys and ran out to a late-night store. I searched until I found two matching outfits. I wanted him to wake up to magic. I wanted him and his new buddy to walk into school feeling connected — feeling like they belonged together.

The next morning, his teacher sent me a photo.

I opened it… and my heart absolutely melted.

The two boys looked nothing alike.

Different skin tones.

Different hair.

Different features.

In every visible way, they were completely different.

But my son?

He never noticed.

To him, they were twins because they both loved dinosaurs.

Because they laughed at the same silly jokes.

Because they felt safe sitting next to each other at lunch.

He didn’t see differences.

He saw a friend.

He saw joy.

He saw someone who made him feel understood.

That was enough.

And it hit me hard — somewhere along the way, adults learn to look for what separates us. Kids don’t. Not until we teach them to.

Children don’t compare skin tones.

They don’t measure features.

They don’t divide the world into categories.

They see who is kind.

Who shares.

Who plays.

Who makes them feel happy.

Imagine if we saw the world like that again.

Imagine how much lighter this country would feel.

How much softer our conversations would be.

How much stronger our communities could become.

Maybe the real lesson isn’t about Twins Day.

Maybe it’s about remembering how to see through the eyes of a five-year-old.

Because love doesn’t start divided.

It starts simple.

And maybe — just maybe — it’s time we learned from our kids.