(I get in the elevator with a man and his young son. The son has been playing with a basketball in the hallway. As we’re riding down:)

Son: “Can I dribble in here?”

Dad: “No.”

Son: “Okay. No dribbling in the alligator.”

Dad: “Elevator.”

Son: “Right. No dribbling in the elebator.”

Dad: “Close enough.”

(I couldn’t help but chuckle.)

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(I’m 31, going to the Harry Potter amusement park in Florida. My brother and I buy the special wands where you can do “magic” in certain parts of the park. We notice in the newer Diagon Alley you can do it pretty easily, but in the older Hogsmeade, it’s a lot harder, maybe because of dirty windows or bad placement of the sensors. I stumble on a girl who is maybe ten, and her dad. The girl is almost in tears because she can’t get the special wand she got to work.)

Me: *running up to the girl* “If it’s okay with you and your daddy, can I teach you some things I learned? I know it’s hard. I’ve been here all day, but I’ve learned a few tricks.”

Girl’s Dad: “It’s okay.”

Girl: “Okay.”

Me: “Okay. Stand right here. See what it’s telling you on that little medallion? Copy the motions.”

(She tries a couple times and it’s still not working; she’s getting frustrated.)

Me: “No, no, it’s okay. You just need to think really hard, and it’s all in the wrists!”

(I say this really loud and start looking around at other people who may have wands.)

Me: “Keep at it! Focus!”

(At this point, an army of wand-wielding people has gathered right behind us, out of her line of vision, trying to get the sensor to work. It finally works. I give them the thumbs up, then give them a signal to disperse so the girl won’t realize it might not have been her. They all walk away, practically doing casual, “Oh, look at that detail in the village,” looks. The girl runs up to her dad.)

Girl: “I did it! I did it! Did you see it?!”

Me: “See? You are a witch! I knew it! Great job!”

Dad: *to me* “You are awesome!”

Me: “Oh, I didn’t do anything. She did! By the way? What house?”

Girl: “Gryffindor!”

Me: “Slytherin. Guess we aren’t all bad, huh? See you, sweetie!”

(I will never let a kid lose their imagination, even if I have to build an army on the quick to keep it running.)

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(I’m a cashier at a small toy store. It’s a quiet day and we haven’t had many customers. A father and son come up with a few different puzzles and a Princess Luna toy. I offer the usual polite greetings and smile honestly.)

Me: “Oh, a puzzle. You must be a very smart boy.”

Little Boy: “Yes, I am!”

Me: “Is the pony also for you?”

(The little boy becomes rather sad and breaks eye contact. The father has a worried look on his face. I take out my keys and Pinkie Pie keychain I got as a birthday present.)

Me: “Pinkie Pie is my favorite because she makes me smile. Who’s your favorite?”

Little Boy: *happy again* “Princess Luna, she protects others from nightmares.”

(I finish ringing up their purchase and they leave. A few days later the father returns.)

Father: “Hi, I was here a few days ago with my son.”

Me: “Little boy with the My Little Pony toy? Yes, I remember. What can I do for you?”

Father: “My son was sad because some school bullies tore apart his MLP notebook, so I brought him here to cheer him up. He doesn’t tell strangers he like Ponies, but you were so nice to him, he was back to his old self.”

Me: “Glad I could help, but honestly I don’t see the problem with boys liking toys targeted at a young female demographic. I personally enjoyed Transformers when I was his age, and still do.”

(The kid and his parents come often to say hi, and I later found out they live in the building across from mine, so I’m almost always their go-to babysitter.)

(My store sells baby chickens in the spring, so before we get them, we set up tanks and fence gates in the middle of the store to attract attention. A father and a little girl come in one morning.)

Little Girl: *gasp!* “Baby chickens!”

(She looks in the tanks, which are empty.)

Little Girl: “Where are the baby chickens?”

Me: “I’m sorry, sweetie, but they’re not here yet. They’ll be here soon.”

Little Girl: “How soon? In a few minutes?”

Me: “No, just a few more days, kiddo.”

Little Girl: “Oh. They are here sometimes, though.”

Me: “That’s right, and I certainly hope your Daddy will bring you back to see them.”

Her Father: “Had you not said it, she’d be begging me, anyway.”

(My niece is two, and shy, but can be loud if she really wants to. She is hiding behind her grandma — my mom — and refusing to directly talk to me. I am about to go on a trip to China, and I ask her what she wants. She whispers to Grandma.)

Grandma: “She wants a stuffed panda.”

Me: “Okay, a stuffed giant panda.”

Niece: *whispering*

Grandma: “No, it’s a small one.”

Niece: *more whispering*

Grandma: “No, honey, like the photos we just showed you; pandas are black and white, not pink.”

Niece: *suddenly loud* “I want a pink baby panda! They are so cute!”

Me: “Okay, a pink panda.”

Grandma: “I need to teach you both colors.”

(When I got back, I sent my niece a panda with pink dress and bow, and for my mom, I brought back a magazine titled “Giant Panda” with an article about the baby panda, all pink without any fur. Sorry, Grandma, but the two-year-old was technically right.)