She wouldn’t stop looking at the moon. One night, as we were putting her to bed, our daughter asked her mother to leave the curtains open so she could see the sky. Charlotte smiled at me and said that she would only close them a little bit.
I walked past her bedroom later that night and heard her talking. I opened the door and found her out of bed, stood at the window with the curtains wide open. She had her nose pressed up against the glass and was starring up at the moon.
‘What’s wrong, Susie?’ I asked, sitting down next to her.
She poked a small finger up at the sky. ‘The moon.’
The moon looked like it had a big bite taken out of it. It was still bright. ‘What about the moon?’
She squinted and furrowed her light eyebrows. She looked far too serious for a child. ‘It’s not very well.’
‘What’s wrong with it?’ I pressed my own nose on to the glass.
‘It’s small. It was big, but now it’s small. It’s ill.’
I hummed. ‘It’s past your bedtime, Susie. The moon can look after itself.’
‘Okay,’ she said quietly. She scooted to her bed and I pulled the covers up to her chin. ‘Can you leave the curtains open?’
I kissed her forehead, closed her bedroom door and went downstairs to tell Charlotte what happened.
The next night, I heard Susie talking again. I walked into her room and she was in the same place at the window. I sat down next to her.
‘It’s smaller,’ she said sadly. It was. There was only a thin sliver of moon left.
‘Maybe the moon is tired,’ I said. ‘It has to stay up all night, flying across the sky. It’s probably very sleepy.’
‘Why doesn’t it sleep in the day?’
I thought for a second. ‘Because it’s too light outside. The moon doesn’t have any curtains, so it can’t go to sleep.’
She looked at the multi-coloured curtains hanging down next to her. ‘I’m worried about the moon.’
I hummed. ‘It’s past your bedtime, Susie. The moon can look after itself.’
The next night, I heard her talking again. I sat down next to her and asked what she said to the moon.
‘I was telling it about the time I was ill and that I got better and that it will be okay,’ she said, never taking her green eyes off the moon, which was almost completely gone.
‘It will be okay,’ I nodded.
‘Moon, it will be okay. Dad said so,’ she whispered.
I hummed. ‘It’s past your bedtime, Susie. The moon can look after itself.’
Before we put her to bed the next night, I closed her curtains. I couldn’t hear her talking when I walked past her room later. But when I opened the door, she was stood at the window on her tip toes, looking all over the sky. I sat down next to her and pressed my nose against the glass.
‘It’s gone,’ she said. There were tears in her eyes.
I hummed. ‘It’s past your bedtime, Susie. The moon can look after itself.’
She kept looking. ‘But it’s gone.’
The sky was much darker without the moon. The stars were glittering slightly dimmer that night. I put my arm around Susie. ‘Don’t worry. I can fix this. Remember when you were ill? Me and your mother helped you get better.’
She sniffed loudly and nodded.
‘Right, I think I can do that for the moon.’
‘What are you going to do?’
I looked up at the sky, heroically. ‘I’m going to help it get better.’
She sniffed again. ‘I hope so.’
I hummed. ‘It’s past your bedtime, Susie. The moon can-‘
She glared at me and I held back a little laugh.
Before we put Susie to bed the next night, I carried her over to the window and proudly opened the curtains and pointed to the thin, silver curl sat in the night sky.
Susie jumped up and cheered. ‘The moon is okay! The moon is okay!’
After she calmed down, Charlotte tucked her into bed and asked if she wanted the curtains left open.
‘Not tonight, Mum,’ said Susie. ‘The moon can look after itself.’ She beamed at me. We closed the curtains. I kissed her forehead.
‘I’ll tell the moon that you helped it get better,’ she whispered. I smiled and closed her bedroom door.
And that’s how I tricked my daughter into thinking that I’m a magician.
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