Which Way is Heaven?

. . . . . At breakfast, my nine year-old son says there are perfect versions of things beyond earth, like a circle, like us. I ask if he learned this at school, but he replies no. I was just thinking about it. Like Plato, I say, you’ve stumbled upon the world of Ideals—and he nods, continues eating his cereal. The morning more perfect, here, than any conjured heaven.