One of the first things my son likes to do each morning is look at the sky to see if it’s dark or sunny.
Through our east-facing windows, he gazed at the cloudy gray light–naked tree branches casting straggly black figures against the vastness–and beckoned me to look. No sun.
From another room, I spied the luminous moon, now two days past full, brightening the Western skies and excitedly called him over.
It’s not shining very brightly, Mommy. Not like the Sun.
Not quite. The Moon has a different kind of light.*
*(Yes, I laughed as soon as I heard myself! Creative parenting spawns a tendency toward singing, rhyming and making everything into a game. All in the name of teaching and learning.)
dhamma for mama* 