Last night, my 6-year-old niece and I were outside in the country on a clear night, looking at the stars, telling stories. Here is what she had to say:
“Stars are bright because they visit the sun during the day, and burn bright throughout the night.”
“Stars like to be in certain places more than others. In some places you can only see three of four stars, but in other you can you see a hundreds, or a million and three.”
“Stars hide whenever you turn on a light. But when you turn off the light, the stars come back out to dance, like at a party. Let’s pretend we are stars. First, we’ll turn off the light and hide behind the car. And then we’ll, turn it on and dance in the street.”
“When you look at the stars from the edge of the yard, they are over there, but then when we move to the house, the stars move. This happens because stars move in circles. See.”
“That bright star is from aliens–aliens that like to hop. They don’t hop too high, just little hops. Aliens grow and play. ”
“The moon isn’t out here, because it’s probably at my house.”
“Why are they called stars? They don’t look like the stars. Like the ones I draw. They just look like points. This is how you make a star. Those stars look nothing like stars.”
“I heard cows jump over the moon, but I don’t believe it… I don’t believe it, because cows are lazy.”
Teach. Brian. Teach. 
Beautiful.