The little tin at Budget Bend looked ordinary until Ava read the lid.

It glows in the dark.

“Louis. Imagine a glowing rocket!”

“A model one?” asked Mum.

“A HUGE model one.”

The paint cost four coins. Ava had four. She asked what it could be used on, and Mum helped check that it was suitable for their cardboard project.

Ava chose the tin. At home, they covered the table and put their cardboard rocket in the middle.

Louis wanted neat little stars. Ava wanted an enormous lightning shape. There was room for both.

She dipped her brush. A bright line travelled up the rocket's side. It turned a corner, wobbled and became a much fatter line.

“I've made a space river,” she said.

Louis painted a little bridge across it.

They followed the paint instructions with Mum, then left the model alone to dry. That part felt rather slow.

Ava checked it from the doorway. Still drying.

She checked again. Still drying.

I suggested that looking at it very hard might not be helping. We drew a moon while we waited instead.

When it was ready, Mum dimmed the light.

It glows in the dark.

Stars, lightning and one splendid space river shone on the cardboard.

Louis made a quiet countdown. Ava held out her arms. Nobody needed to throw the rocket anywhere. Our eyes were already following it across an enormous imaginary sky.

“Next stop,” Ava whispered, “the bridge.”