When the boy doesn't seem too interested in your display, you abruptly stop. Mouth pulling down in a frown, you offer, "Guess not."

You rock back and forth on your heels for a moment, looking the boy over. He looks young, maybe younger than he actually is. Somehow, you suspect, he has quite the story to tell. You like story time.

"So, uh," you say, rubbing at the back of your neck, "what's your story, morning glory?"