There was no sun this Sunday

There was no sun this Sunday. Somehow Kenny knew that was his fault, though he couldn’t quite say why. It never made sense to him that Sunday was the only day with the weather in its name, especially since on Sundays like this one there might not be any sun. The more he learned about it, the less sense the grownup world made.

At least he had his moss blobs. Mom thought they belonged out in the garden. Kenny liked how he could line them up like little shriveled potatoes with green mullets. They weren’t really potatoes, of course, but Kenny wasn’t going to say one way or another. He was allowed to have mysteries too, after all.

It was probably the way he lined them up and then covered them with the white cloth. That must have been what made the sun not come out on Sunday. Next week he’d make sure to let them gather the way they wanted to and not impose any arbitrary choreography on them. Then there’d be sun. Probably.

Mom and dad didn’t say anything. The just looked at the sky, then back at Kenny, with that quietly disappointed look that parents get that they sort of hope their kids don’t get but secretly hope that they do. Yes, it was pretty clear that the black sky was Kenny’s fault.

He looked hopefully at his parents. Then up to the sky. He shrugged and grinned all at the same time. That was harder to do than it sounds, and usually did the trick. Not today.

Larry was a lot of trouble. He was the smallest moss blob. Kenny never knew wether to sort him at the small end, because he was little, or at the long end because Larry was almost rod-shaped. Kenny stared hard at Larry and made the kind of noise that made mom sigh and stare at the garden. Kenny picked up all of his precious moss blobs and set them on the shelf. He set them down casually, as if they didn’t matter, hoping mom would lose interest. It had been a long day. Tomorrow would be better.

That night the unusual configuration of moss blobs made a few changes in the world. For one thing, Kenny and his family woke up to find it was Moonday. That made more sense right off the bat. For another, Kenny got a surprise from the mirror.

Kenny really didn’t like the way the mirror looked back at him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what bothered him. Was it just the way his eyes floated on his face, rippling like moon-shine on a river? Perhaps it was the beard. He probably didn’t have that yesterday. He gave the chain a tug, the stopper popped out, and down went the water. Kenny shuffled back to his room to check on his moss blobs.

They had arranged themselves in pairs. The lightning flashed. Kenny ran to tell mom the exciting news.

Tomorrow would be Twosday.