A small, timid four year old Heminor once had a dream. It was a quaint dream, a dream of four year old kids around the globe: little Heminor wanted to go to the moon, and he was determined to do just that.
On this particular day, a small spark in Heminor's teeny tiny head illuminated a string of light bulbs, and he got his first idea ever. Heminor's household used to keep two things handy and at the ready next to an old bungee-cord telephone (you know the one): a notepad and the number for a certain travel agency which was used to plan miscellaneous vacations and trips.
"Hello, XYZ travel agency, how may we help you?"610Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw2bGgjajvY
In a little toddler's voice, Heminor had but one simple demand: "Gib me a ship to da moon."610Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyte60go5J2
Although it took multiple office workers to decipher his undeveloped speech, after the frustration of listener after listener laughing in his ear, he finally got confirmation that his dream trip had been planned, with first-class seats in a luxury rocket ship.
Of course his parents were informed of the hilarious booking, and were greeted with an ecstatic toddler waiting for them at the door, a crude drawing of a spaceship and the stars on the notepad with a set date scribbled on the side.
Of course his bewildered and thoroughly amused parents had no clue how to break the news to him, so instead he was presented with a consolation prize. When little Heminor went to sleep at night, and when the lights were switched off when he got into bed, he was, indeed transported to space. The ceiling glowed with a marvelous galaxy of luminescent stars, and on his bedside shone a flaming rocket ship night-light.
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