"Go ahead," I encourage. I know this story. It's been the same one all week.
Once upon a time!
That's my story!
He learned the formula and now he recites it again and again: "once upon a time." That's a whole story.
I encourage him to continue. "And then what happened?"
A guy comes!
"Yeah? And then what happened?"
A mommy comes!
"And then what?" We're driving now. There was a full moon tonight, and a clear sky, and a boy with stories in his heart driving home with his sister and his mama.
And the moon comes! And the guy and his mommy say hi to the moon! He pauses in his narrative and waves out the window.
And his girl! His girl says hi to the moon, too! He points at his sister. L, happy to be included in the plot line, complies. She waves at the moon. He always calls his sisters his girls.
"And then what happened?"
And they all live happily ever after! He's learned that formula, too, and loves it just as much as the other.
Did you like my story? he asks. He always asks, even when the whole story is just the first four words.
"I did, love," I offer. "And I like that sky. Look how bright the moon is tonight. See how it's a circle? That's called a full moon." We've curved with the road and he can't see it. We curve back and there it is, his bright friend.
That's my moon! he cries, at that perfect two-year-old stage where of course the moon is not just the moon; it's his moon. "It's a nice moon," I conspire with him. It is, he affirms. It's my nice moon.
It's my sweet boy.
taken from my front porch with my 300mm lens