words and music

Today when Ari was in the swing he looked up at the sky and I thought he said, "Lick."

"Leaf?" I asked craning my head to look at the sky.

"Stick," he said, confidently pointing to the tree.

"Oh, stick!" I said. "Yeah, stick!" My sleep deprived brain could not come up with the word "twig" but now I'm glad I didn't correct him. He seemed so pleased, and so was I, that he could see sticks in the sky.

It made me realize, too, that he knows words that have dual functions. "Stick" means sticker as well as part of a tree; just this morning Ari had been happily playing with stickers and talking glibly about the "sticker" and making it "stick"; thus in knowing "stick" he knows two nouns and a verb.

Auntie Papaya left a great message on my cell about seeing Ari this weekend, and how struck she was by how intently he listened when she, her mother and I all sang a little song, harmonizing as we went. I can't remember what song it was. He cocked his head and listened quite gravely. She thinks he is quite serious about music and assumed I had observed this quality in him. I guess I had, but what had struck me was his joy in dancing, something I assumed YoYo had cultivated in him, since YoYo is the consummate dancer. But the musical interest--I guess that much I had simply assumed would happen. I would have been surprised if it hadn't happened. It seems so much at the core of what it means to be human and happy.

As it does to have words to describe and make real that happiness, as long as those words don't become the whole story.