A shy little boy came up to me at the desk where I work and whispered something so softly that I couldn’t make out a single word. I bent over to put my ear near his mouth and said, “Could you say that again, a little louder please?” And he whispered a request that was a few puffs of air and some sounds that might have been consonants.

With my head bent over to listen, I could see two tiny cowboy boots peeking out from under his jeans. They had pointy toes and contrasting stitching, and they looked real snazzy, so I took a shot in the dark: “I like your boots. Do you like books about cowboys?”

“Heavens yes!” said his grandmother who was sitting on a couch nearby. “Cowboys and tractors.”

“Well let’s take a look,” I said. “I bet we can find some cowboy books.”

So my colleague and I went to lookin’ and we rustled up some good stories, and the little boy took them to the couch with his grandmother while mama and the baby were busy.

Soon it was the end of my shift. I started to gather my things and was almost finished when a little boy appeared at my side.

“Tractor,” he said. Not loud. But loud enough.

“Sure, I think we can find some tractor books.”

“Did he ask you that himself?” said the grandmother.

“Yes he did.”

So my colleague and I went to lookin’ and we pulled some tractor books off the shelves, and for a few minutes, in a small corner of the world, life was just about perfect.