It's a snowy day. Your mother was watching you from the bench while you were playing in the park, swinging in a hammock until someone touched your shoulder.

It was a boy about your age, 6 or 7, with big, beautiful eyes. He greeted you with a sweet smile, holding out his hand with a small flower he had picked from the ground.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen in this park. Would you like to be my friend?"

He said sweetly.