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.

Boston ‘gay on gay’ assault shines light on absurdity of ‘hate crime’
Party of ‘limited government’ fails when given chance to shrink state
Face the facts: U.S. Constitution is dead document with no meaning
Internet helps blogging 9-year-old change the lousy food at her school
Photo assignment in dimly lit gym kickstarted my love for basketball
Eviction moratorium is pure theft; it’s a sign of creeping socialism
How many warnings can life give us when something’s gone wrong?
Why not join the LP? You can’t fight the state by becoming the state