Mia had a question she had been saving all day. At dinner she put down her fork and asked it.
“If everything falls down, why doesn’t the moon?”
Her dad was a scientist. He could have said “gravity” and gone back to his soup. Instead he found a piece of string, tied it to a tennis ball, and took her into the garden.
“Hold this and swing it round,” he said. The ball flew in a circle over her head. “Now let go of the string.” The ball shot off across the grass.
“The string is like the Earth’s pull,” he said. “It pulls the ball in the whole time. If the ball stopped moving, it would fall straight to you. If it moved too fast, it would fly away. The moon is going at just the right speed, so it keeps falling towards us and keeps missing.”
“So the moon is falling right now?”
“Right now, and every second since before there were people.”
Mia looked up for a long time. That night she did not ask why she had to go to bed. She asked whether satellites were falling too.
A good answer does not end the question. It gives the next one somewhere to start.