Two faces to wash, and four dirty hands
Two insisent voices, making demands
Twice as much crying, when things go wrong
The four eyes closing, with each slumber song
Twice the garments, blowing out on the line
Two cherubs in the pram,soaking up sunshine
Work I do for twins, naturally comes double
But four arms that hug me, repay all my trouble.
*I don't know the author of this poem, I just read it in the newsletter of the multiple birth society that I belong to.