Emma cupped her mittened hand over her mouth and announced in a loud stage whisper, “Look, Daddy, there’s a fog monster.”

Her dad chuckled and squeezed her free hand. “Where?”

“By that phone pole. See?” She pointed down their street. “He’s yawning.”

Emma’s dad squinted into the foggy morning. He sipped his coffee. He tilted his head to one side. “It has it’s mouth open?”

Emma nodded. “He’s yawning.”

“He should be, it’s early,” her dad said.

“He hasn’t had his coffee yet,” Emma said.

As they continued their morning walk, Emma’s dad wondered when he had lost the ability to see the world as his daughter did. She waved good morning to the fog monster, who was of course a friendly monster, she assured him, he hoped Emma would never lose her ability to see the extraordinary in the ordinary.