Julie Jay: My sons are chalk and cheese, but they love each other all the same

Ted is meticulous with his building blocks and Lego; everything has to be colour-coded and pointing northeast at all times, but JJ is much more in to the demolition side of things. Like any wrecking-ball operator worth his salt, JJ’s favourite part of building stuff is knocking it all down. He does so with the same rigour property developers applied to Georgian architecture in 1960s Dublin, and with the same lack of remorse.

At bedtime, Ted is quite fond of reading his books aloud to us, having learnt a few of the stories by heart. He demands we all sit and listen as he regales us, night after night, and any interruptions will be met with a scowl and a reminder to ‘ssshh and listen’. Essentially, my son is the Christy Moore of pre-schoolers, demanding absolute respect, while he treats us to an impromptu, yet utterly predictable, rendition of ‘Ten Little Pirates’.

Invariably, our 15-month-old will trundle in, and attempt to grab the book out of Ted’s hands, an action that will be met with such a look of horror you would swear JJ was after disposing of his chewing gum by sticking it to a Jack Yeats painting.

‘JJ, no!’ Ted will protest, which only eggs JJ on to pull on the book harder, eventually releasing his vice grip when mammy prises his chubby hands from the pristine cover tug-of-war style. It often happens just as Ted has got to the penultimate page, and we, thankfully, have nine little pirates standing on the shore.

“Now I have to start again,” Ted will announce, and back we go to one little pirate being stranded, much to the disappointment of Mammy, who was hoping to catch the end of the Masterchef final.

On more than one occasion, visitors have interrupted our cup of tea to alert me to the boys playing a rather vigorous game of WWF on the mat, concerned that this might be a bit too much rough-housing for a baby whose age we still count in months. Little do they know this has been instigated by the junior of the two, who loves nothing more than a bit of wrestling to start the day.

The game only ends when my eldest either pleads for clemency or gives a more forceful pushback to JJ, who, rather than cry, squeals with delight.

Finally, his brother is understanding the assignment and bringing some real digs to the table. Christmas is truly thrilling.

Perhaps part of the reason Ted is so endlessly patient with JJ is that the little fella is obsessed with him, to the point that every time he enters a room, JJ goes full-on Beatlemania for his big brother, despite the fact he only lives with three family members, so there is 33% chance at all times that the person opening the door is Ted.

Watching Ted as he tries to reason with a 15-month-old has been kind of like watching a guard try to reason with an intoxicated tourist in Temple Bar: Initially, he tries talking to him, before accepting that normal conversation is futile and deciding to leave him to his own devices, as long as they’re not posing a risk to themselves or others.

Having siblings who are effectively chalk and cheese is hereditary in my family, given that my twin brother and I were the Irish equivalent of Danny De Vito and Arnold Schwarzenegger in the iconic ’80s comedy Twins. The film revolves around fraternal twins, Julius and Vincent, who are the result of a scientific experiment to make the perfect human. Separated at birth, they eventually find each other, and the usual cat-and-mouse ‘80s montage ensues, before the brothers eventually find two sisters and the inevitable coupling rounds things off nicely.

Growing up, I would constantly remind my brother that I was the ubermensch Arnold to his hapless Danny, but all of this was, of course, in good spirits, because, in the ’80s and ’90s, there was no higher compliment than being compared to Danny de Vito.

Like Julius and Vincent, my two boys are different, but they are also the same where it matters: They love each other more than anything in the world. 

I am so happy they have each other, if for no other reason than it will give them a confidante to moan to about me in years to come, when I am threatening to collect them at the front door of the Junior Cert disco or giving out about their lack of Leaving cert prep.

Nothing unites siblings like a parent getting on your wick, especially when that parent, like yours truly, is constantly comparing themself to Arnold Schwarzenegger.

At one point in Twins, after Julius disposes of a debt collector who has been hot on de Vito’s character Vincent’s tail, Vincent, feeling emboldened, delivers this parting shot: ‘You tell your brother, he messes with me... he messes with my whole family!’

I can only hope my two boys will show a similar comradery when facing down the loan sharks.

That being said, if they need fast cash, I will encourage them to try the credit union first, as they are a lot less likely to send the heavies should you miss a payment.