Push me higher!” “Any higher, and you’re going to go right up to the moon!” “I want to! I want to go over the moon, like the cow in the nursery rhyme!” “You’re getting too old for nursery rhymes,” he told her. “I am not!” “Sure you are. No more ‘Hey, Diddle-Diddle’ for you!” “Yes! I like ‘Hey, Diddle-Diddle’! And I like ‘Jack Be Nimble,’ and I like ‘Little Boy Blue,’ and—oh! I know! I want to go over the moon so that I can see the man inside it, like in the song.” “Which song?” “Your favorite song, about Little Boy Blue and the kitty cat and the daddy!” “What? Oh—you mean ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’?” He laughed. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him, and she could picture that broad grin on his handsome face, flashing teeth beneath his mustache, and the way he’d throw his dark head back, laughing as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
