Toddler astronauts? Count me in

just a daydream from my mom brain

I’d send my kids to the moon if I could

Just the thought of them—
hair pressed to foreheads in sweaty tendrils,
tiny breaths fogging the glass of miniature space helmets
as they bounce,
up,
down,
twirl, trip on a moon rock
(though the fall is much softer here
with the dust and the relaxed gravity)
hopscotching from crater to crater—
fills me with glee.

I would not have the discipline
to get anything done
in that rare moment, with them occupied, swept off,
leaving me to my thoughts. The dishes would remain,
the emails unsent,
and I’d leave a trail of unfolded socks
on my way to join them.