A precious little girl, no older than five,
with pigtails and shiny shoes, skipped into a bustling pet store. She walked right up to the counter, stood on her tiptoes, and carefully pronounced her question to the grizzled, kind-eyed shopkeeper.
"Excuthe me," she said, her voice a tiny squeak, "Do you have any widdle wabbits?"
The shopkeeper, a big man with a heart the size of a watermelon, melted on the spot. He crouched down until he was at her eye level, adopting the softest, most patient voice he could muster.
"Aww, bless your heart," he cooed. "Do you want a widdle white wabbit? Or a soft, fuffy bwack wabbit? Perhaps one like that adorable widdle bwown wabbit over there?"
The little girl giggled, blushing deeply. She rocked back and forth on her tiny heels, put her hands firmly on her knees, and leaned in close, as if to share the most important secret in the world.
"I don't weally fink my pyfon cares," she whispered, her eyes wide with innocent sincerity. "He just told me to bwring home dinner!"
"Excuthe me," she said, her voice a tiny squeak, "Do you have any widdle wabbits?"
The shopkeeper, a big man with a heart the size of a watermelon, melted on the spot. He crouched down until he was at her eye level, adopting the softest, most patient voice he could muster.
"Aww, bless your heart," he cooed. "Do you want a widdle white wabbit? Or a soft, fuffy bwack wabbit? Perhaps one like that adorable widdle bwown wabbit over there?"
The little girl giggled, blushing deeply. She rocked back and forth on her tiny heels, put her hands firmly on her knees, and leaned in close, as if to share the most important secret in the world.
"I don't weally fink my pyfon cares," she whispered, her eyes wide with innocent sincerity. "He just told me to bwring home dinner!"
