Never two much

Here's something I stumbled upon at momofrs' blog and couldn't resist sharing here. Thanks momofrs for letting me.

There’s two to wash, there’s two to dry,

There’s two who argue, there’s two who cry.

One’s in the mud having a ball,

The other holds a crayon, another marked wall.

Some days seem endless, my patience grows thin.

Why was I chosen to be a mother of twins?

The answer comes clear at the end of each day,

As I tuck them in bed and to myself say,

There’s two to kiss, there’s two to hug,

And best of all, there’s two to love!