Dear Ann Landers,
"Dear Abby, react to the staring, whis-pering and finger-pointing when you were growing up? Was it annoy-ing? Was it fun? Did it have any impact on the way you thought about yourselves? Did it make you more reclusive or more outgoing? What advice do you have for a mother who is trying to raise twin girls to be normal, well-adjusted human beings? -H.H.U. in Miami I I fi A NN LANDERS Dear Miami: My sister and I were almost always the center of at-tention from the day we were bom. As if being twins weren't enough, I was born with two teeth and my sis had one. No one could ever ac-cuse us of being "reclusive." Since our mother dressed us alike from infancy until we were mar-ried (a double wedding, of course, with identical gowns and bridal veils), no one could miss us. The wonderful thing about being a twin is that you are never lonely. There is always someone to talk to. And talk we did, nonstop for 21 years. Then marriage provided each of us with a new set of ears. The awful part of being a twin is that you are never alone. There was no opportunity for quiet introspection and honest self-appraisal. Granted, the "togetherness" was great fun, but it denied us the oppor-tunity to develop as individuals. We would never escape the image of the sister act. In retrospect, we grew up surprisingly unspoiled, although we traded on our twinship shamelessly, a natural and easy thing to do. We also got into a great deal of mischief. What one couldn't think of the other one could. My advice to mothers of twins is this: Do not, repeat not, dress your twins alike. Treat them as individuals, not halves of a single unit. Encourage them to have different friends. If possible, send them to different schools. If that isn't possible, try to put them in different classes. Do not make your twins feel guilty if they fail to stick together on all issues. Encourage them to be independent and have their own point of view. Be impartial, and always remain neutral when they have their bat- des. Don't take sides. Never compare one twin with the other, and do not permit relatives or friends to make comparisons. Be aware that sibling rivalry is natural and with twins it is intensified. Not until my daughter Margo was born did I realize what a re-markable (and heroic) woman my mother was. I have thought many times that God must have a special place at his right hand for the mothers of twins. Especially if the twins are anything like my sister and me. Tie Best of Ann Laniers / 117 Here's a poem for all parents to remember: To My Grown-up Son Alice E. Chase My hands were busy through the day. I didn't have much time to play The little games you asked me to. I didn't have much time for you. I'd wash your clothes, I'd sew and cook, But when you'd bring your picture book And ask me please to share your fun, I'd say: "A little later, son." I'd tuck you in all safe at night And hear your prayers, turn out the light, Then tiptoe softly to the door... I wish I'd stayed a minute more. For life is short, the years rush past. A little boy grows up so fast. No longer is he at your side, His precious secrets to confide. The picture books are put away, There are no longer games to play, No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear... That all belongs to yesteryear. My hands, once busy, now are still. The days are long and hard to fill. I wish I could go back aiid do The litde things you asked me to. As children grow and change, so do their problems. Instead of worrying about their first day of school, we find ourselves worrying about their first kiss-and other in

Dear Abby, react to the staring, whis-pering and finger-pointing when you were growing up? Was it annoy-ing? Was it fun? Did it have any impact on the way you thought about yourselves? Did it make you more reclusive or more outgoing? What advice do you have for a mother who is trying to raise twin girls to be normal, well-adjusted human beings? -H.H.U. in Miami I I fi A NN LANDERS Dear Miami,
My sister and I were almost always the center of at-tention from the day we were bom. As if being twins weren't enough, I was born with two teeth and my sis had one. No one could ever ac-cuse us of being "reclusive." Since our mother dressed us alike from infancy until we were mar-ried (a double wedding, of course, with identical gowns and bridal veils), no one could miss us. The wonderful thing about being a twin is that you are never lonely. There is always someone to talk to. And talk we did, nonstop for 21 years. Then marriage provided each of us with a new set of ears. The awful part of being a twin is that you are never alone. There was no opportunity for quiet introspection and honest self-appraisal. Granted, the "togetherness" was great fun, but it denied us the oppor-tunity to develop as individuals. We would never escape the image of the sister act. In retrospect, we grew up surprisingly unspoiled, although we traded on our twinship shamelessly, a natural and easy thing to do. We also got into a great deal of mischief. What one couldn't think of the other one could. My advice to mothers of twins is this: Do not, repeat not, dress your twins alike. Treat them as individuals, not halves of a single unit. Encourage them to have different friends. If possible, send them to different schools. If that isn't possible, try to put them in different classes. Do not make your twins feel guilty if they fail to stick together on all issues. Encourage them to be independent and have their own point of view. Be impartial, and always remain neutral when they have their bat- des. Don't take sides. Never compare one twin with the other, and do not permit relatives or friends to make comparisons. Be aware that sibling rivalry is natural and with twins it is intensified. Not until my daughter Margo was born did I realize what a re-markable (and heroic) woman my mother was. I have thought many times that God must have a special place at his right hand for the mothers of twins. Especially if the twins are anything like my sister and me. Tie Best of Ann Laniers / 117 Here's a poem for all parents to remember: To My Grown-up Son Alice E. Chase My hands were busy through the day. I didn't have much time to play The little games you asked me to. I didn't have much time for you. I'd wash your clothes, I'd sew and cook, But when you'd bring your picture book And ask me please to share your fun, I'd say: "A little later, son." I'd tuck you in all safe at night And hear your prayers, turn out the light, Then tiptoe softly to the door... I wish I'd stayed a minute more. For life is short, the years rush past. A little boy grows up so fast. No longer is he at your side, His precious secrets to confide. The picture books are put away, There are no longer games to play, No goodnight kiss, no prayers to hear... That all belongs to yesteryear. My hands, once busy, now are still. The days are long and hard to fill. I wish I could go back aiid do The litde things you asked me to. As children grow and change, so do their problems. Instead of worrying about their first day of school, we find ourselves worrying about their first kiss-and other intimacies.