Will You Be Our Mommy?Chapter 7 free porn video

My sons’ Tiger Den headed for Money Rocks Park on Saturday, March 24th. We got lucky. The cold weather from a few days ago had disappeared. The storm front bringing snow from our west wasn’t due until late Sunday. We had sunny clear skies with temperatures expected to hit the mid-sixties. It was a perfect day to introduce our boys to hiking.

Hunter accompanied Noah, Connor and me on the hike. I give my little brother credit. He figured out that Cub Scouts is a family affair and that sister and brothers were welcome to come. He reminded me that he is my brother and he wanted to hike with his nephews. I didn’t disagree with his well-reasoned argument.

All the families met at the Money Rocks parking lot on Narvon Road at 10:00 AM, except for the chronically late – the Carpenters, father and son. They arrived close to 10:15 AM, about the time we were going to give up on them and hike on. I led the group up the hill, pacing myself so Hunter could keep up. We climbed about a hundred foot in elevation in the half mile before we crested the ridge and dropped down to the bottom of Money Rocks.

The rock formation was huge and fascinated the kids. I told the boys the story about Abe Buzzard and his gang of horse and chicken thieves. I also told them about the “Society for the Apprehension and Prosecution of Horse Thieves,” a local group in the early 1900s dedicated to apprehending and putting Abe Buzzard and his gang in jail. They were successful. Buzzard died in Eastern Penitentiary in 1935.

Bill Aument taught the boys about trees and plants. I talked about the geology of our area and how the Welsh Mountains differed from the Paradise area. I had paid attention in my Geology class a couple years ago. We ate lunch and then turned the boys loose to play on the rocks for about half an hour. We concluded the day’s trip with a treasure hunt around the rocks. The kids enjoyed the hunt. We hiked back down the hill to the parking area. Hunter’s poor little legs gave out about a quarter mile from the end. He rode piggyback the rest of the way to my car.

I had to hustle back to Paradise with the boys. I needed to prepare for my third date with Vicky. I wasn’t totally prepared. I dropped the boys off at the house before heading for Groff’s Pharmacy. I needed to buy condoms. The ones I had were old and couldn’t be trusted any longer.

Vicky and I had done our second date the previous Saturday night. I got to know Vicky better on the second date. We found we had similar taste in humor. We enjoyed talking with each other. I found Vicky was gifted musically. She sang and often soloed in her church choir. She played the piano, violin and guitar. I joked that my best musical skill is sitting quietly and listening.

I loved the outdoors. My idea of a relaxing weekend was to head to the mountains or shore and camp out. Vicky’s idea of a fun and relaxing weekend was to go to a spa for a massage, a facial, and lots of time relaxing in the sauna and Jacuzzi.

Vicky was still slightly uncomfortable with the idea of dating a jock. She had bad experiences with a couple football players in high school and was jaded about sports. I assured that I that I wasn’t typical of the type she despised in high school.

Vicky and I shared a physical attraction. Why not? She was a drop dead gorgeous young lady. I was a buff, young man. Vicky definitely seemed attracted to my body. We ended our second date with a fairly hot make-out session when I found an out-of-the-way place to park for forty-five minutes.

I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Vicky and I ended tonight by calling our dads and announcing we wouldn’t be home until the morning. I am twenty-three. She’s twenty-one. We’re both adults and fully capable of making a decision whether to go to rent a hotel room and share intimacies for a night. I figured I had about a fifty-fifty chance of using the condoms I bought at Groffs.

Noah and Connor dropped by the bathroom while I was preparing for my date.

“Got a date tonight, Daddy?” Noah asks.

“I do,” I agreed as I shaved the whiskers off his face.

“Who wit’?” Connor queried.

“Vicky again,” I answered.

“You ‘ike her, don’t you?” both twins asked in unison. The twins seemed to have a bit of telepathy at times. It could be freaky.

“I do,” I agreed.

“Vicky again?” Noah says. “She ready to be your gir’friend yet?”

“More ‘portant,” Connor added. “Is she gonna be our mommy someday?”

“Speak carefully, Noah,” Andy insisted. “Say your L’s clearly.”

“Girlfriend,” Noah responded. “Is she?”

“She’s not my girlfriend...” I answered as I washed off my razor. “ ... and Connor, she’s a long, long, LONG way from being someone who I know well enough to ask to marry me.”

“You ever gonna marry someone?” Connor asked.

“Someday, when I when I find the right woman,” Andy said.

“If you marry, are you going to leave us here with Mom-Mom and Pop-Pop?” Noah asked.

“I hated it when you had to live in St. ‘oius...” Connor said. “ ... St. Louis. I missed you so much last fall and winter.”

“Yeah,” Noah agreed.

“I know it’s hard,” I agreed as I put away my razor and wiped my face clean. “It was hard for me to be away from you last fall too. I’ll do my best to get us settled together as a family.”

“Please do, Daddy,” both twins said. “We need a real mommy.”

I felt bad for my boys. They were being raised by their grandmother and grandfather and part-time father, which was different from the norm for first graders. I needed to get my act together and provide a better, more normal family situation for my boys. Was Vicky the answer? I didn’t know. All I could do was explore the possibility and see where things went.

I took Vicky to John Jefferies, a hot restaurant on Harrisburg Pike in Lancaster. Reservations had been hard to get, but I got them. The restaurant gave you a choice of several small plates or one large plate with your entrée. Both of us decided to sample their small plates. Vicky and I shared a soup duo first – sweet corn bisque and heirloom tomato sweet onion bisque. Both soups were excellent.

I suggested we share a baba ganoush and naan bread plate. My linebacker teammate, Mike Keller, swore by baba ganoush. He had a minor in Near East studies. Mike planned to apply to the Foreign Service after he completed his playing career. The platter of eggplant puree, roasted garlic and caramelized onions was delicious. John Jefferies topped the baba ganoush off with a mint infused crème fraise, which was outstanding. It felt weird scooping up our meal with torn pieces of flat bread, but when eating Lebanese food, why not eat like the Lebanese? For a change of pace, Vicky and I decided to try Entourage, the dance club in Eden, east of the city. There was a big line waiting to get past the bouncers and into the club when we arrived. Vicky and I joined the queue. By chance we ended up right in front of three African-American couples. I struck up an amiable conversation with them.

One of the men, Mike, worked in IT for Armstrong World Industries. The second guy, Marcus, worked in sales for Armstrong. The lady in the third couple, Gabrielle, worked with Marcus in sales. The guys were surprised but pleased when they found out my line of work – professional wide receiver.

Vicky was unusually quiet while the seven of us talked. Vicky and I had struck up conversations with strangers when we were on other dates. She engaged the others and seemed to enjoy the informal conversations. Tonight, she didn’t. I didn’t find out why until after we were admitted to the club and parted company with the other couples.

“Why would you want to talk with THEM?” Vicky asked.

“Them?” I asked blankly.

“Those people,” she explained, pointing in the direction the three couples had gone.

“You mean African-American people?” I asked.

“Hmph!” Vicky sniffed. “Are you some kind of liberal? That name is so politically correct.”

“I am pretty apolitical,” I answered. “As for calling them African-Americans, I think the name fits pretty well. Black really doesn’t quite fit because they’re not really black. Americans of African descent seems like a fair name. It’s not any different than Italian-American, Polish-American or German-American, like me and I suspect you. An American of German descent.”

“Why did they need to come to this club?” Vicky asked. “Isn’t there some club where they can be with their own people instead of mixing with us?”

“Do you have a problem with mixing with African-Americans?” I asked. I purposely used the term Vicky had objected to. I suspected our views on people were not going to be compatible.

“They can do their own thing,” Vicky answered. “They don’t need to be with us.”

“You do realize that I play football, don’t you?” I asked. “80% of my teammates are African-Americans. Hell, some of my best friends on the team are African-Americans.”

“You actually believe that secular humanist non-sense that your teachers spouted in school?” Vicky asked. “Diversity, integrating the races and everything?”

“I live it on the football team,” I responded. “Football is the ultimate meritocracy. Coach plays the best guy. Period. It doesn’t matter if you’re white, black or pink with purple polka-dots. Best man plays.”

“That’s a game,” Vicky said. “I’m talking real life. They’re different from us and mixing just doesn’t really work in real life.”

“It doesn’t work if you don’t try,” I said. “One of my best friends on the team is Barry Lee Smith. Barry Lee made Dean’s List his last year in college. He has a degree in industrial engineering from Texas Tech. He made four interceptions playing as our nickel back last season. He has my back and I’ve got his. Do you think he is white or black?”

“White?” Vicky responded.

“Black, skin almost as black as coal,” I answered. “He has the darkest skin of any African-American I know. Barry Lee was raised by a single mom on the wrong side of Pensacola. He got lucky when his high school football coach noticed something special about him and helped him achieve his potential on the football field. Texas Tech recruited him and helped get his academics together. He was drafted by the Rams in the second round, right after me last year. He has a good career ahead of him when he finishes football. That is the kind of potential EVERY kid has, given help.”

“It’s good your friend made something of himself,” Vicky admitted. “How many of them really have that possibility? Too many of them are happy to take handouts from the government and sit on their asses.”

My patience was getting tried severely. Dating is a way to get to know someone better. I learned a great deal about Vicky in the last few minutes. I had one final question for my date.

“Here is a hypothetical I want you to answer,” I said. “Some day when you marry, what would you say if your fiancé insisted on inviting an African-American to your wedding?”

“I wouldn’t have a fiancé who would insist on that,” Vicky said.

“Now what?” I asked. “Any wedding I would be at would include a couple dozen African-American couples. Do you want to hang out and catch some music or just call it a night?”

“Why don’t we call it a night?” Vicky responded.

“I guess it is best we found out about this incompatibility now,” I said as we stood to leave.

“Very basic incompatibility,” Vicky confirmed. She was quiet while I drove her home. I didn’t mind. It gave me time to ponder how close we had come to making a big mistake. I wished Vicky a good evening when I dropped her off at her house. I was back home around 9:30 PM.

“Problem on your date?” Dad asked when I walked in.

“I found out Vicky was more conservative than I realized tonight,” I explained. “She also is uncomfortable around African-Americans.” I related the story from the beginning.

Dad listened carefully before summarizing, “It’s probably for the best that you find out now.”

“I agree completely,” I said. “I liked a lot of things about Vicky, but this came out of nowhere. I guess it’s back to the drawing board to find a girlfriend.”

“You’ll find someone eventually,” Dad agreed. “Most likely when you least expect it.”

I lucked out on my condo in St. Louis. My realtor called a few days earlier and reported he had a couple interested in buying my condo at my full asking price. We were able to arrange the settlement for Wednesday, April 7th.

I flew out to St. Louis on Monday, April 5th. I spent the rest of the day packing boxes with my clothes, dishes, pots, pans and other small items. The movers arrived bright and early Tuesday morning. By late afternoon my condo was stripped, and the contents were heading west for the coast.

I camped out in my condo on my Therm-O-Rest mattress and sleeping bag. Wednesday morning, I signed the deed to my condo over to the new buyers and gave them the keys. I returned my rental car on the way to the airport. I ended up arriving in LA around 2:30 in the afternoon. I grabbed another rental car and headed north for Westwood Lake.

The drive was a real bitch. I pulled into my apartment complex a little after five o’clock. I headed straight for the office. Mr. Dunfield greeted me warmly.

“How is my favorite Rams player?”

“I am well, sir,” I responded.

“Actually, I have to be careful about calling you that,” Mr. Dunfield said. “Another Rams player has rented one of our one bedroom apartments.”

“Who?”

“A Mr. Cobb,” Mr. Dunfield replied.

“Chris? Chris Cobb?” I said. “Cool! He’s close friend of mine. What unit is he in? I’ll have to look him up tonight.”

“I think Mr. Cobb is back in North Carolina right now,” Mr. Dunfield said. “I’ll take you over to your place.”

I followed Mr. Dunfield in my car. I parked in front of the garage. I checked everything out as Mr. Dunfield showed me around. Things looked good.

“The cable and internet are hooked up already, as you requested, Mr. Martin,” Mr. Dunfield said. “You will have to make your own arrangements for land line telephone service, if you desire that feature.”

“I think I will stay with just my cell phone,” I said.

“Give the office a call if you have trouble setting up the internet connection,” Mr. Dunfield said. I can get a tech to help you set it up.”

“I can probably handle it,” I answered. “I assume DHCP is turned on and I can set the IP address to auto and let the computer configure itself.”

“You got me,” Mr. Dunfield admitted. “Call me if you get stuck. I’ll put my fourteen year-old son, Will, on. He understands these things far better than I do.”

“I’ll call if I get stuck,” I said. “I was like your son, Will, at fourteen. I was the go-to guy for fixing any computer or networking problem for my family.”

I had no trouble hooking up my laptop to the internet. I browsed until I found a rib place, I passed in the west end of Westlake Village on my way to the condo. Reviews were decent. I drove back for dinner. The food matched the reviews. It wasn’t St. Louis or Kansas City barbecue, but it was tasty. I stopped at the Albertson’s Grocery Store across the street and picked up a few items for breakfast and lunch tomorrow.

I called around, looking for any teammates who might be in town. The first I reached as Dylan Harris.

“Hey, Andrew, what’s up – more importantly, where are you at?” Dylan asked when he answered his cell.

“Sitting in my big, empty condo in LA,” I said. “My furniture won’t arrive until Friday, so I am camping out in my empty condo. I was calling around to see who is in LA and if anyone wanted to join me for a round of golf tomorrow.”

“I would enjoy that,” Dylan said. “I have nothing pressing. Beth and I finally am enjoying a quiet night after a week of unpacking and setting up our house.”

“Where did you end up?” I asked.

“Beth and I found a nice house on top of the hill overlooking Westlake Lake,” Dylan replied. “We’re on Saddle Mountain Drive.”

“Really?” I laughed. “My condo is near the top of a hill overlooking Westlake Lake too.”

“Which side? Dylan asked, smirking.

“East side,” I answered. You?”

“West side,” Dylan said.

“We can’t be too far apart,” I replied. “You have a course in mind?”

“Westlake Golf Course is close,” Dylan said. “How about it?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed. “Maybe we could try it, if we can get enough guys.”

“You call around and check with some of the skills guys,” Dylan suggested. “I’ll call around and see if any of the linemen at up for a round.”

“I’ll call Barry Lee Smith too,” I added.

“Do that,” Dylan said. “Barry Lee’s a decent golfer.”

Half a dozen calls alter, Dylan and I had our foursome arranged – Dylan, me, Barry Lee and Courtney Devine, Dylan’s main protector and our left tackle. I called the course and arranged for a 10:15 AM tee time for our group.

Southern California is supposed to have beautiful weather all the time. My first night in LA and it rained. Thankfully, the overcast cleared by morning. Bright blue skies greeted Dylan, Barry Lee, Courtney and me on the course. I rented clubs since mine were on a truck somewhere between Missouri and California.

We had a fun time on the course. The temperature ranged from mid-sixties when we started to seventy degrees at mid-round and back down to the mid-sixties by the time we finished. Dylan is a good golfer. I am pretty decent, and Barry isn’t bad. Courtney was another story. He wasn’t good but he did have fun. Fortunately for Courtney, we didn’t bet on the round. He would have lost badly if we had. The four of us had dinner at the course restaurant before heading home.

Barry Lee and Dylan showed up Friday morning to help unload the truck. Courtney’s wife had other plans for him. The truck showed up around 9:30 AM. We had it emptied by noon. I sprang for pizza for everyone. Dylan and Barry Lee stayed around to help me unpack after the movers left.

Dylan called Beth close to dinner time and she came down and joined us. I took everyone out to the Chicago Ribs place I found the previous evening and bought everyone dinner to thank them for their help.

It felt great to sleep in my own bed that night in my new apartment in LA. I officially had a west coast base for my team’s activities. I flew home Saturday morning.

I received official correspondence from the Rams when I got home from my trip to Los Angeles. It contained my off-season training schedule up to preseason training camp. Phase I of the training was two weeks of working on conditioning with our training staff. This phase would run from April 18th-29th. I planned to continue my workouts with Steve Sanderson at Pro Train so I could spend more time with my boys.

Phase II was three days a week for two weeks of on field practice, under supervision of the coaches. The offense wasn’t allowed to practice against the defense. We needed to work separately. No pads, helmets or hitting was allowed. Coach scheduled the first week of workouts for Wednesday, May 4th through Friday, May 6th. We would have the weekend off and then go again, Monday, May 9th through Wednesday, May 11th.

Phase III was the final four weeks. We would do two weeks, three days a week of practice against the defense. Still no hitting, pads or helmets. The following week we would work out four days. Our mandatory mini-camp was in the final week. The first voluntary OTA in Phase III started on May 23rd and finished May 25th.

The schedule gave us the rest of that week off, as well as Memorial Day weekend. We would work out Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, take a weekend off and then work Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of the next week. We had four days off and then reported for the mandatory mini-camp on June 13th. We would practice for the next three days. The mini-camp ended our team OTAs. We had off until football camp started on Friday, July 29th.

I liked the way the coaches planned out our schedule. By lining up three days of OTA late in one week, followed by three days of OTA early in the next week, the coaches carved out almost two full weeks free for us while getting us all the time and reps we were allowed to have according to the collective bargaining agreement (CBA).

I would be able to get home and spend some of May with my boys. Especially nice was the fact that I would be home for my boys’ seventh birthdays on May 17th and be able to attend the Cub Pack’s May 20-22nd camping trip with Noah and Connor. I had to be back in LA on the 23rd, but I should be able to do that.

I called Coach Tolbert to check in and let him know my plans for the team’s OTAs. Strictly speaking, everything was voluntary except for the mini-camp. Despite the official policy that the OTAs were voluntary, we missed them at our peril. You need repetitions in practice to prepare to win starting spots and to play well during the season.

“Andrew, it is good to hear from you,” Coach Tolbert said when the receptionist put him on the line with me. “How is your off season going?”

“I started working on my MBA,” I answered. “I have everything moved out to LA. I have continued my workouts all winter. I spend the rest of my time being a dad – PTO, Cub Scouts, swim team and just hanging with my sons. I wanted to let you know I will be missing the Phase I workouts in April.”

“You will forego a significant workout bonus if you miss the team sponsored workouts,” Coach said.

“I know,” I agreed. “I think Max Solomon warned you last spring not to expect me to be in St. Louis for the workouts. It’s not different now that we are in LA. You’re a dad. I have two small boys who will turn seven during OTAs. I need to spend as much time with them as I can while they’re this age.”

“I do understand, Andrew,” Coach said. “My playing career was cut short by injury. Buddy Ryan made me a player/coach in 1985 after I was put on injured reserve. He brought me along when he moved to Philly the next season.”

“I knew you worked in Philly,” I said. “My dad remembers you and Coach Ryan fondly from those days.”

“We had a good run there,” Coach said. “I had to do some fast thinking to find a new team five years later when Braman, the Eagles owner, let Buddy go. I found a spot as the defensive coordinator for the Rams, when they were still in LA. My wife and kids stayed behind in Philly while I started work in LA. It is tough to be separated from family the way you are. Did you notice we tried to set up the OTAs to maximize your free time so you could get home between some of the sessions?”

“I saw that, Coach,” I responded. “I appreciate your consideration.”

“Taking care of the big stones,” Coach said.

“You heard Max Solomon’s story?” I asked, laughing.

“I have,” Coach Tolbert said. “It’s a good story and a good object lesson. Take care of what’s most important first, which has to be family. Will you have any problems with any of the Phase II OTAs?”

“Probably not,” I answered. “My boys love camping, and the Cub Pack has a camping trip planned for May 20-22nd. I should be able to get a flight to LA in time for the OTA starting on May 23rd.”

“Don’t sweat it if you are a little late, Andrew,” Coach Tolbert said. “Enjoy the rest of your off-season. I’ll see you in the beginning of May.”

“I’m looking forward to getting started next season,” I said before ending the call.

With the coming of spring, the evening light lasted longer and the air warmed. Outside activities become more enticing. My boys decided tossing the ball around with Dad was a cool after-dinner activity. I loved it. I got spend quality time just hanging with my boys and having fun with them.

A couple weeks after “ball time” started I came out after doing the evening dishes and found Noah and Connor engaged in a heated, through friendly argument.

“It’s a dumb story,” Connor insisted. “It can’t be true!”

“It’s what Brody said happened,” Noah countered. My son spotted me coming out the back door. “We should ask Daddy.”

“Yeah!” Connor agreed. “Daddy will know if it’s true.”

“What will I know?” I asked as I joined the boys.

“Where babies come from,” Connor said. My stomach tightened a little. I knew this talk was coming. I had even prepared for it when Penny gave birth.

“Brody Weaver says his little brother was brought by a stork,” Noah added.

“That can’t be right,” Connor insisted. “Aunt Penny’s belly was really big before Jessie was born and then it got small again when the baby came. I thought the baby was in Aunt Penny’s tummy.”

“You are very close to correct, Connor,” I said. “The baby was inside Aunt Penny, just not in her stomach.”

“Where then?” Noah asked.

“Hold that question for a minute,” I said. “Let’s start with the basic differences between males and females. What is the biggest physical difference between you and a girl?”

“We’re bigger than girls?” Connor offered.

“True, but not what I am looking for,” I said. “The difference is between your legs.”

“We have pee-pees and girls don’t,” Noah said.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “Let’s use proper names for things. Your pee-pee should be called your penis.” Both boys were listening intently. They nodded their agreement.

“Do you remember seeing Rose when she was younger or Jessica when Aunt Penny or Aunt Abby changed their diapers? What was between their legs?”

“Nothing?” Connor offered.

“Not nothing,” I corrected.

“Just a slit is all I saw,” Noah said.

“Yes, a slit,” I agreed. “The slit leads to a woman’s vagina. OK, let’s focus on the male anatomy some more.”

“Antomany?” Noah asked.

“Anatomy,” I corrected. “It means how we are put together and how our body functions. Males also have two small balls to go with their penis. The proper name for the balls are testes. Girls do not have those.”

“We do,” Connor said. “Ours are small compared to you and Pop-Pop.”

“You are still little boys,” I said. “They’ll grow when you mature and get older.”

“Will we have hair around them like you?” Noah asked.

“You will,” I agreed. “When you are teenagers, you’ll start to grow hair like me. When you mature, your testes will be critical to how a baby is made. Their job is to make tiny, little cells called sperm. The sperm have little tails that they use to move around. Do you follow me so far?”

“Our balls will make sperm when we grow up,” Noah confirmed. Connor nodded his agreement.

“Now, let’s talk about what your penis is used for.”

“To pee,” Connor offered.

“That is one thing that it does,” I agreed. “It has a second job that relates directly to where babies come from. It delivers the sperm to a woman, which is how a baby is conceived.”

“Conceived?” both twins asked.

“It is the proper word for making a baby,” I explained. “Let’s talk about female anatomy now. You remember how girls have a slit opening to their vagina.” Both boys nodded their understanding.

“The vagina is like a tunnel that leads deeper into the female, to her womb. Connor, you remember you said when started talking that you thought baby Jessica was in Aunt Penny’s tummy?” Both boys agreed.

“Jessica was actually growing inside Aunt Penny’s womb,” I explained. “The obvious question is how did Jessica get inside Aunt Penny’s womb? We have to go deeper into a female’s body to understand that part. At the end of the womb there are two tubes leading to a woman’s ovaries. Ovaries are somewhat like a man’s testes, or balls. In a woman, the ovaries produce an egg, typically one each month.”

“Like a chicken egg?” Noah asked.

“It’s much smaller than a chicken egg, about the size of a grain of sand. The egg is key to how a baby is made. You have to put a man’s sperm together with a woman’s egg in order to make a baby.”

The boys gave me puzzled looks. “How does the sperm get inside a lady to get to the egg?” Connor asked.

“Back to how a man’s penis works,” I explained. “You know how your penis gets stiff occasionally?”

“If I touch it sometimes,” Connor offered.

“Right,” I agreed. “You remember that it’s OK to touch yourself, but only in private, not where other people are around.”

“I know, Daddy,” Noah said. His brother echoed him half a tick later.

“A man uses his stiff penis to put sperm inside a woman’s vagina. The sperm swim up through the womb and up the tubes leading to the ovaries, looking for an egg. The sperm swim around the egg when they find it. The sperm try to penetrate the outside of the egg until one succeeds. What had been an egg is a future baby when the sperm joins the egg.”

“So Jessica started in Aunt Penny’s ... uh...” Connor said

“Womb,” I added.

“Womb,” Connor confirmed.

“This is what you did with our real mom?” Noah asked.

“I did,” I answered. “Your mother and I didn’t plan on having you, but you happened anyway.”

“Why are there two of us?” Connor asked. “We’re the only twins in first grade. Why?”

“Having twins in unusual,” I explained. “It happens one of two ways. The first way is if the woman has two eggs ripen in the same month. You can have twins that way. Even though those kind of twins share a birthday, they are no more alike than Uncle Kyle and me. The second kind of twins are what you and Noah are – identical twins.”