By Erik van Rheenen
I’m a twin. Before you ask, we’re fraternal: I’m 9 inches taller, got the good-looking genes in the family (Thanks, Mom and Dad!) and also, most obviously, Moniek is a girl.
Mo is the language geek of the family, in the best way possible. She’s a dual English and Spanish major at Cornell University.
On the other hand, my broken Spanish is pretty much limited to, “Hello, how are you?”, “Where is the bathroom?” and “Help, I’m on fire. Could someone please put me out?”
You know, the useful phrases.
So it’s probably a good thing that she’s the one who jetted off to Spain to study in Seville for a year. I would have been the sibling obnoxiously singing John Denver’s “Leaving on a Jet Plane” at flight attendants and getting tackled by La Roja’s fans for making remarks about Spain’s poor futbol showing at the Olympics.
But this leaves me stuck in the strangest position of my young life: I’m now an only child until next June. It’s a new, exciting and unsettling feeling.
Read more at Goerie.com.
Truth About Twins 