In honor of the super moon and the boy who made me a Mama…

The moon is shining high through the big, bay window. We are sitting next to each other, your little, bare feet hanging straight over the couch. Your winter chapped cheeks are rosy and always scream for a kiss. Your wispy hair is everywhere with no solution in sight. You have one finger resting in the red tag of your white cotton blanket who you craftily call, Tag.

Goodnight, Moon is the bedtime book of the month, and you stretch out “mooooon” and whisper “hushhhh” so inventively. Time for bed. Your hand in mine walking up the steps, and then you stop and point. Next, you say your first sentence…

“I see moon, Mama!”