I had come to the restaurant to write. The place was mostly empty in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. I should have gotten a lot of writing done, but Robert had other ideas.
Robert is a talker. His dad works in the kitchen of the restaurant and had been called in to finish someone else’s shift, so Robert tagged along to wait for him. He quickly struck up a conversation with me.
Robert is in the third grade and he wanted to tell me all about his life. He’s a golfer, he said, but people frequently ask him whether he’s a quarterback on a football team. He and his family have five cats and the one called Boo Bear is is favorite. (Boo Bear sleeps with him.) He’s going to be a firefighter or maybe “something easy” like a landscaper.
There was nothing extraordinary about Robert’s story, but everything about this sweet kid sparkled with life and wit and happiness. That such a thing is so ordinary is extraordinary in itself.
I’m not exactly sure whether children gravitate to me or whether I gravitate to them, but I constantly seem to end up interacting with them. In another restaurant this week, I had another “ordinary extraordinary” encounter.

Economic Man needs no heart, because love and God are dead
Epiphany: My message changed when I selected a new audience
Relationships he couldn’t mend were tragedy of my father’s death
Peace won’t come until you quit obeying long-gone programmers
Starved for love: Portrait of a plastic person living a little plastic life
National sugar daddy? Warren Buffet wants to give us money … sorta
What role does shame play in turning kids from lives of crime?
People don’t confront ideas today; they lob bumper stickers at others