“We got you an acre of land on the Moon!” beamed my mom, handing me a legal-looking document. I was 9 years old, and it was Christmas. I was suddenly the happiest boy in the world.
Also the dumbest. I treasured that deed for years. Finally, one night at age 13, the truth somehow struck. I raced to the kitchen to confront my parents.Astronomy magazine subscribers can read the full column for free. Just make sure you’re registered with the website.