Love you to the moon and back

The incredible privilege to be accompanied by your granddaughter, a two-year-old - or one year and eleven months to be more accurate - is hard to explain. The unstoppable questioning includes everything we see, and don't see as a matter of fact, on our way back home. The mind of a two-year-old is hard to understand, even harder to follow as their vocabulary is limited. Merely words. Endless, repetitive strains of words. Most of them unknown to me, but apparently completely logical to her. Chitter-chat on the highest level.
'Dink?' she says, looking at me with two big, innocent eyes.
'Dink?' I repeat her question. 'Oh...Dink!' I say laughing to her. 'You mean Drink!' and I hand over her juice.
Immediately she throws the cup upon the street. An endless game: give her something and she instantly throws it away. Giggling with all her undeniable charms. Meanwhile producing sounds which represent a kind of language to her. Only to her. None of us can understand her. Till she says: 'Moon'.

four PM. Despite the cloudy day, there's still some sunlight managing to break through those clouds. But a moon? She looks up at the sky. Now we all see it. A sickle of the moon in a piece of clear blue sky, right between the dark clouds.
'Yes love, the moon. Good for you!'
Now she's proud. She has noticed something we had not seen. And she even knew the right word. This calls for a celebration. The final five minutes of our walk back home are filled with only one word. One monotonic sound, cheered by a proud child. 'Moon, moon, moon!'.
Moon it is.
Love her endlessly.