You may not realize this, but you, moon, were my first enemy. Trapped in my high chair I could see you peering in the window, hanging in the top pane and peering down at me with an expression whose doleful sympathy struck a note of terror in my undersized brain. I didn't care about monsters in my closet; for me the monster lurked at my window. From the backseat of my parents' car you didn't look so scary - the thrum of the engine, the reassuring speed of the trees whizzing past, neutralized your power.
In elementary school I decided that you weren't so bad, and I thought that I might like to visit you. Heck, I could make it my job to get in a rocket and jump around on your surface. Those lazy long leaps looked awesome, although I worried that one of the astronauts would jump too hard and keep sailing out into space. Understand that much of my understanding of you originally came from the illustrations in The Little Prince, and that kind of impression is pretty hard to shake.
If I ever get the time to visit, I'll be at the Sea of Tranquility. You probably remember me as the kid in the high chair who screamed whenever you came by.