Member-only story
When the Moon Bothers the Sun
Conversations Born of Fabricated Words and Fantastical Thoughts
I tiptoed into my son’s room. The whir of his white noise machine filled the air as if he were floating on a spaceship.
Savoring the last moments of tranquility, I slowly drew open the dinosaur curtains to let the natural light of the slow-moving sunrise lull him awake.
My son’s eyes peeled open. He rubbed his eyes and, stretching out his arms, he folded his blanket down to his waist.
Perfectly positioned so that a golden sun beam splashed onto his bare belly, he looked down at his radiant skin and proclaimed in delight:
“Mom, look! I have a sleep tan!”
Out into the early winter air we went.
As we hurried towards the car, we giggled as we blew out visible donut-shaped breaths into the morning chill. Stiff from the cold, my fingers fumbled to buckle him in. Swaddled in his puffy jacket and with his fuzzy hat snuggling his head, he kicked his trembling legs against the biting cold.
“Mom,” he said, “It’s so cold! My legs need a pant coat!”
I laughed and said, “Yes, we’ll need to get you one of those.”
