It's the little baby sign we do any time she hears the tune to "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star." She loves that song. And I love to sing it to her. I also LOVE this little video version of it.
Every night at bedtime, her twilight ladybug scatters a handful of stars across the ceiling and we always have to point to the stars.
The other night, I was singing her to sleep with every song I could think of with the word "star" in it. After "Swinging on a Star, " when I was fairly sure she was out cold, I switched to "Second Star to the Right." She seemed peacefully nestled next to me and I was just enjoying my little serenade.
When I reached the song's bridge, which starts with the words "Twinkle, Twinkle, little star, so I'll know where you are," her little hands went straight into the air and began to open and close rhythmically.
As a music teacher, I'm impressed that she's made a connection between the lyrics of a song to a different tune and the corresponding gesture from the other song.
As a mommy though, I'm undone.
We forget how magical it once was. Nearly every baby I know has learned to twinkle along with the song, but it slides away with thumb-sucking and pattycake and potty training.
What a beautiful little melody that we become numb to after the ninety thousandth time we've heard the ABCs. The little French tune has been around 250 years, spun into nursery rhymes, variations done by Mozart...and yet, when my daughter hears it, it's the most lovely song she knows.
She bends her fingers to her palms and presses them firmly, reveling in the pulse of the repeated motion. She checks our hands, searching for confirmation that we, too, feel twinkly.
She stood straight up in bed tonight, arms stretched toward the blue stars sprinkled above her, a dimply grin spreading across her face. Magical was the only word I could think of.
May your 2011 be that full of wonder. I'm pretty sure ours will be.