So we had this debate going at home about which baby would start crawling first and on what day.

Naturally, I said at least one would be crawling on my birthday at the end of December. Also, naturally, I was wrong — no crawlers yet, but there’s no rush.

As much as I think having twins is tough now, because they can barely get around, we don’t have to run a full-court press whenever they get going in the house.

I’m grateful at this time that they are just cute and moored to the ground like luxury yachts.

My wife thinks that the babies will start crawling in the second week of February (or somewhere around there). In her infinite wisdom, I don’t doubt that she’ll be more accurate than my prediction.

In preparation for their burgeoning powers and abilities I fixed their crib and set it to the lowest level. They’ll be able to stand and jump in their little space soon enough — or at least they should.

I spent 45 minutes unscrewing everything and putting it back together so it would be nice if the babies got full use out of it at the very least.

I’m going to make sure to tell these babies all about the sleepless nights and sacrifices I made for them just as soon as they’re old enough to understand the concept of opportunity cost.

OK, I’m not really going to do any of that. I just think about it sometimes at 3am when a baby decides that now is the perfect time to practise singing, or wants to play until sunrise.

I’m still battling my “insistent self” that gets annoyed when the babies take precedence over something that I want to do. It’s a process of growth for me too. I’m learning every day how to be a better parent just as they are learning about themselves and the world around them.

I couldn’t be more happy at the opportunity to be their dad. The bounty of guiding them along their journey is enough for me, with all the smells and smiles that accompany it.

Once again, I have to tell the world how amazing my wife is. I mentioned last week that she took my babies to their great -grandmother’s funeral. Her efforts to care for the babies in my absence can only be described as Herculean (or Heraclean depending on which canon you rely). She is incredible and I’ll be telling the babies bedtime stories about their mother to amaze them just like I would about any heroine.

Aren’t we lucky?