I try to refrain from sharing sentimental anecdotes about my children since these kinds of stories usually entertain only the parents themselves. I am about to make an exception to that rule, however, so you may either humour me or find something more interesting to read.
As I was putting my eldest son to bed last night, he asked me, “Dad, can we go in a rocket sometime?”
I told him that not everyone can go up in a rocket, just astronauts. I also told him that being an astronaut would mean lots of learning and practising and work, but that it would be an exciting job to try. He was very quiet for a minute, so I asked him, “Would you like to be an astronaut?”
“Yes,” he told me gravely, “and Daddy too, so we can hold hands on the moon.”
I suddenly saw the two of us, hand in hand, standing in the loneliness and the darkness of space, tethered to the barren rock only by the tenuous gravity of the moon, and I could think of no better image to express the love of a father and a son.