Before Monica went to bed, she out of her window and saw the moon. The moon looked so . I wish I could the moon, thought Monica... and reached for it. But no matter how much she stretched, she could not the moon. "Papa," said Monica to her father, " get the moon for me."
Papa got a very ladder. He carried the very long ladder towards a very high . Then Papa put the very long ladder on top of the very high mountain. Up and up and up he climbed. Finally, Papa got to the moon.
"My Monica would like to play with you but you're much too big" said Papa.
"Every I get a little smaller," said the moon. When I am just the right size, you can take me with you." And indeed, the moon got smaller.... and smaller.... and smaller. When the moon was just the size, Papa took it. Down and down and down he climbed.
"," said Papa to Monica, "I have the moon for you." Monica jumped and danced with the moon. She the moon and threw it into the air. But the moon kept smaller and smaller and smaller. And finally, it disappeared altogether. Then, one night, Monica saw a sliver of the moon reappear. Each night the moon grew, and grew, and grew.
This story was written by Eric Carle.
He wrote it for his daughter - his way of telling her how much he loved her.