Last night, Ian and I put the last of the shooting stars and moons on his bedroom ceiling. He’s only been waiting for a year for me to do this. He doesn’t have much patience, but his memory is short.
As Ian stood on his bed, handing me fistfuls of jade-green stars, he asked, ‘Can we go to space when you’re done?’ Well, duh.
But first we had to have dinner, because you can’t fly to space on an empty stomach. Then a bath, because a smelly human doesn’t make as good an impression as a freshly-scrubbed one. Then a trip to the bathroom, because there are no rest areas between Earth and the Moon. Preparing for spaceflight is a lot like getting ready for bed.
Cssshhhht! ‘Ah…Commander Ian…’ Csssssht! ‘You are clear to tinkle…Over.’ Cssshhhht!
Ian climbed the ladder into his spaceship, and crawled under the blankets. Safety first. The countdown started, and at zero the be…spaceship shook and shuddered. The lights flickered and went off. When they came back on, we had landed.
Ian descended, and we walked on the moon. It’s a nice place, with wood floors and cats everywhere. We went downstairs to collect moon rocks. Along the way, we stopped to see if Moon Mommy liked hugs and kisses as much as Earth Mommy.
Our mission to the moon was really just a layover on our way to Mars. That trip is much longer, and you have to sleep through it.
Ian boarded the ship, but I decided to stay behind. Just before the countdown, Ian held up his hand. ‘Wait, Daddy! Can I just be Ian? Can I go to bed?’
I gave him a travel voucher.