Wisdom

I'm putting the boys to sleep and Elan is already halfway there, snuggled under the covers. Ariel, on the other hand, is singing the lullabye with me, line by line, having absorbed the (made up) lyrics after two steady years of exposure. I'm in shock at the words he knows, the way his voice goes up a few octaves when I reach the high notes - that he can carry a tune. He's been singing a lot lately.

I guess Elan could hear the smile in my voice, because as I glance at him in the dark, I notice that he, too, is grinning.

"Your brother's getting pretty smart, huh?" I ask him quietly, and he agrees with pride.

"He's SO smart! Ariel, you are so smart! You're as smart as an elephant!"

He turns to me, nodding knowingly: "Elephants are very smart."

I think perhaps he learned about elephants and their memories at school or something. Or from TV. They're always picking things up from school. Or TV.

I say nothing and he elaborates: "See, elephants can hear every'hing, even a tiptoe, because they have big giant ears. And they can swipe 'hings with their loooong loooong noses that are called 'trunks.'"

He takes a deep breath and concludes, in a very voice-over tone: "Elephants are very strong predators."

Ah-ha. The Discovery channel. Just as I'd suspected.

As I try to leave the room, just as I do every night, Ariel begins to cry and beg me to stay. I tell him I'll stay for one more minute, and, like every night, he counters with, "No! Tay twunny twunny meenutes." I ignore him and sixty seconds later I'm heading out the door. He cries again, which, as it does every night, sends Elan - who would gladly start REM the second his head hit the pillow, but who also can't bear the sound of "his baby's" tears - into a panic. He, too, begs me to stay, for the little one's sake.

I recall Ariel's teacher telling me that he sings the class to sleep at naptime, a medley of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star," the ABCs, and something about two little ducks going out to play. I tell Elan to ask Ariel to sing to him, rather than sob.

"Why don't you sing me a song, Ariel? I LOVE your singing!" Elan's voice is thick with faux-excitement. The way adults talk to toddlers.

"Okay!" Ariel replies happily, launching into a heartfelt, squeaky rendition of "Where is Thumbkin?" and forgetting all about me.

I'm getting used to smiling in the dark. I think:
Elan - when it comes to smarts, you're something of an elephant yourself.