Moons and Mutations

“Did you hear it, did you hear it?!”  I whispered as I caressed the curl off her face at the same time as I felt the clap of thunder tense her little body up.

“The moon is singing!” I said in repy to her saucer shaped eyes that indicated that at any moment that child would be pressing so hard into my body that I would have to re-birth her. All 26 pounds of her.

“I don’t want this one” she replied.

“This one, what?”

“This moon. I want another one that doesn’t sing.”

Enter the conversation about how everyone in the world shares a moon and that we can’t just get another one on Saturday [it seems Naya thinks everything occurs on Saturday…”Naya, when did you get so big” asked her uncle Steve. Naya’s response: “Saturday.”, “Oh, busy day then I guess.”] What is the world? That’s to be discussed tomorrow, along with why girls don’t have penises, why it we don’t eat pita chips for dinner, and why she has to wear underwear to camp.

Our conversation made me think of all the things we can’t get a new one of, and just how increasingly uncomfortable I feel about the state of things: the safety of our water sources, the quality of our food, the stability of our planet.

Big leap you think? Not so much. Over the weekend we went out with friends/family and talked about the movie Food Inc. and I was horrified that a) I hadn’t even heard about the movie b) actually had to eat food to live.  Um, yes, apparently not horrified enough to stop me from stuffing my face with oreos today (but then those aren’t even food).

So Naya can’t get another moon, and we can’t get another planet, and argi-business is invading and patenting the cellular structure of our produce and we are going to end up as mutants.

Sweet dreams.

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