"Twinkle, Twinkle, babies? Did you?"
"Yes, Mommy sang 'Twinkle, Twinkle' to the babies."
"Mommy sing 'Twinkle, Twinkle', Connor, too?"
"Okay, Baby." And then I did.
"Connor sing now," he says, putting his hand over my mouth, as he lays next to me on his pillow. He turns over on his stomach, raises up on his elbows and begins to sing. And you must imagine his words in that cute little sing-song of children as they try to imitate melodies (especially bobbing his head back and forth dramatically with it, because that's the cutest part).
"Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
Won-der
What you are.
(What's that word?) - Mommy has to sing the next verse to help remind him, then he repeats it.
Above
World so high
Di-mond
in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
Won-der
What you are.
Yay, Connor did it!"
My big boy, he loves to learn new things. We've been having this "conversation" just about every night before bed. And it's one of the best parts of my day. Regardless of how long or bad it's been, how tired or frustrated I might be, I have learned to love our little night-time ritual.
I always sing "Twinkle, Twinkle" to my little guys, to help get them settled into bed. And then I make my way to Connor's room, where he is always waiting, usually sitting up on his bed. Sometimes we talk about our day, sometimes he just wants Mommy to lay down and cuddle with him, and lately he's wanted to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle."
There may be nights when I'm not really in the mood, when I would rather just go downstairs and take a few minutes to myself or see my husband and my puppy, but I always stay and I'm always glad. It's cute to see his big grin, that reaches all the way into his eyes, as he sings it back for me. He's so proud of himself, and so happy to share it with me. How long will my big boy want to cuddle with Mommy before bed, or share stories and songs, like he does now? Though it may be several years away, it will probably pass in the blink of an eye, and he will think himself too old for such things.
Right now, Mommy is the center of his whole world. He wants to talk to me, to share everything that he does and thinks and wants to do. And though it can try my patience during long days, having such a talkative little shadow following my every move (usually with two semi-silent shadows as well), I try to remember how sweet and how fleeting it really is. He's already growing up on us, and I have to remember to take the time to enjoy the little boy he is, before it's too late.
Long live "Twinkle, Twinkle" . . .
