When Noah hears a song on the radio -- even one he's never heard before -- he still hums along, in near perfect pitch. And not the melody, either. He hums the harmony, complete with key changes and everything.
At night, though, he keeps things simple, and hums Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to himself -- the first lullaby I ever sang to him, because it was the only one I knew all the words to, and later because it was one of the only songs Noah would allow me and my amateurish voice to inflict on him. He sings it over and over again until he drops off to sleep.
Every night for a good two weeks now, I've heard his door open in the middle of the night, his padded pajama feet creeping down the hall as he silently crawls into our bed, spooning up next to Jason the way he's realized Ezra spoons with me, and then quietly -- oh so quietly, like he's afraid we'll send him back to his room if we hear him -- hums himself back to sleep.
Jason sighs, I groan and inch closer to the edge of the bed, we roll our eyes and mime complaints about sore necks and cramped legs -- we sleep in a double, for crissakes -- and mutter promises to get both of them in their own beds as soon as possible.
And then we wrap our arms around our babies and fall asleep to the sound of Noah's sweet and lovely voice.