“What planet are you on?” I teased Good Man after he said something silly in the car.
“[Good Man] Planet,” he said, then, in a softer voice, “and you are my moon.” I laughed and Good Man grinned. “Because you reflect my shiny parts!”
“Wouldn’t reflecting your light make you the sun?”
“I am a light-emitting planet.”
“I don’t think those exist.”
“They do in [Good Man] Universe!” he sang.