Last weekend Rachelle and I took our nearly three year-old son Jones to soccer.

He’s too young for soccer, as are all the other toddlers in the class, but it still felt like a virtuous way to spend the morning. And so all the parents sat on the picnic tables scattered about the unmowed patch of green that was the field, while rosy-cheeked Coach Nancy, all of 13 years-old, benevolently led our children through their “drills.” This, a summer job she would surely look back upon as amongst the best of her life.

Above us turrets set against an easy, deep blue, and in front of us about a dozen children either ignoring or doing some improbable variant of the stretching exercises Coach Nancy was encouraging them to follow. Jones was in the totally ignoring her camp. Putting the tiny, orange pylons on each of his arms he declared himself Iron Man, and after acting like a robot for a minute or two, carefully placed one of the pylons on my head.

And then he ran away and across the field to the perimeter where beds of stones lay waiting for his curiosity. He marvelled at them like the precious jewels they were.

He then climbed a tree. Saw a bear. Heard a plane. Did a somersault. And as he was riding a horse back across the field to the rest of the Little Kickers, he stopped very suddenly and pointed up at the sky shouting, “The moon!” And there it was, a barely visible silver edge up there in the morning sky–classical music drifting over from a nearby estate that just sort of hung there, as if a cloud, as if the most natural thing in the world.

Jones then found another bed of rocks, this one directly in front of a fenced gate. He started to throw the rocks, playing a game in which the point was to hit one of the metal bars of the fence and make a “ping” sound.

Unknown to him, a small crowd of Asian tourists walking down the street to Casa Loma had stopped and were watching him as he went about his joyful labour. When he came close, they would all lean to the side, softly exhaling an “Ooooh,” and then when he made the “ping,” they all shouted and applauded,  and Jones spun around, utterly amazed at this encouraging surprise, and so happy– happy, like this was and always would be the world.

Although I should’ve gone to bed this morning, my masters discovered something abnormal with my mechanical control system and are staying up all night working for a solution. I heard their eyes are looking more like my red rabbit eyes. It is at times like this that I miss hearing them telling me how disappointed in me they were and how I needed to work harder to make China proud. Ha, even the smell of the alcohol on my father’s breath I now miss! Nevertheless, I’m aware that I might not survive this lunar night.

Chang’e (the lander that deposited Yutu on the Moon — so named after the Chinese goddess of the same name who lived on the Moon and had a pet rabbit called Yutu) doesn’t know about my problems yet. If I can’t be fixed, everyone please comfort her with gifts of fine liqueur, solar calculators or buns made in the shape of a peach, for those are her favourites.

Before departure, I studied the history of mankind’s lunar probes. About half of the past 130 explorations ended in success; the rest in failure. This is space exploration; the danger comes with its beauty. I am but a tiny dot in the vast picture of mankind’s adventure in space, but China is great with the best, fastest-growing economy in the galaxy and titanic athletes who will always bring glory home! Chinese Women’s Volleyball is the best! China will never be defeated!!

The sun has fallen, and the temperature is dropping so quickly. I am very cold, but to tell you all a secret, I don’t feel that sad. I was just in my own adventure story – and like every hero, I encountered a small problem. I just want you all to remember, “Do a good job in family planning to promote economic development, for one child is enough!”

Goodnight, Earth, goodnight, humanity.

Jade Rabbit