One night when I was little, Mary and I were lying awake when Dad walked in, carrying a flashlight. He said, “Your glow stars aren’t bright enough.”
He held the flashlight against the glow-stars and planets on the ceiling. He lit up the glow paint on my poster of deep-sea fish. The three of us cuddled together, watching the whitish-green patterns shine in the darkness. Whenever they started to fade, Dad relit them.
The effect was magical. We sat for a long time, wrapped in darkness with the stars and the planets and the fish all aglow.