"Where does the moon shine?"

One might ask themselves this question during childhood.   And the adult might answer:

"In the sky.   In space."

And the child would further press:

"How does it shine?"

And the adult would necessarily give a very grownup response, feeling delighted with themselves that they had further enlightened this young, naive little soul.   And the child would naturally nod his head and go to his room and pretend, as if the adult had not spoken, that the moon was a crystal ball, powered by a magic man in another land, and the same moon he gazed upon every night not only shown in his land, but another magical one over which the powerful man of the mystical arts was king. And the grownup would see this and smile, thinking how pretty it was to be a naive little boy. And the grownup would never learn of her foolishness in doubting the child, because the child's beliefs, though not correct in this world, bore more merit than she would ever get a chance to learn.

And this is how the adult becomes wiser than the child, but, unlike the child, never knows the truth.