Sean: (With great pride, points) Moon!


Me: (not sure how to proceed) Good try, Sean!  That’s actually the sun.


Sean: (insisting with pride) Moon!


Me: Close, Sean.  It’s the sun.


Sean: MOON!


Me: (sigh) Very close, Sean.  It looks just like the moon but brighter.  It’s a cartoon sun.  The moon comes out at night; the sun comes out during the day.  It’s day time, so that’s the sun.


Sean: (points, smiling with pride) MOON!


Me: (kissing his head) Good job, Sean.


There will be plenty of time to correct him later, right?

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I see the Moon and the Moon sees me.

The moon was pregnant with light as it hung low in the eastern sky, gliding along towards its zenith.  The cold air crystallized the stars, sparkling, dancing.  The world fell silent to watch the beautiful pageantry in the sky.  No frogs, no crickets, no cars, no sirens.  There was magic here.  It pricked the skin through the warm coats.


Sean pointed his chubby fingers at the moon, reaching for it, wanting it, wondering what to name it.


“Moon,” I whispered into his perfect little ear.


“Moon?  Moon.  Moon!”  He reached out as though he could catch the brilliant silver ball of light.  I chuckled.


“It’s not for you.  It’s for all of us.  It’s far away.  It’s beautiful.”





Sean: (pointing to the sky) Moon!


Me: No, baby, that’s a helicopter.


Sean: (pointing) Moon!


Me: Close.  That’s a cloud.


Sean: (pointing) Moon!


Me: Well, it looks like a moon, but it’s really a balloon.


Sean: (pointing) Moon!


Me: That’s a plane, Seanny.


Sean: (pointing) Moon!


Me: (sigh) That’s the sky.  (picking up Sean)  Here.  That’s the moon.  Yes, it changes shape, but there it is.


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