I dread the lemonade stand. We have two or three every year, and it’s always fun, but you know, a lot of work. Gotta get the little colorful stand out of the garage, I’ve gotta find cups, find the big pitcher, make the lemonade; then, we have to compete with the 5-year-old entrepreneur across the street, so we have to sell cookies or brownies or something, right? It’s a major production. And then in the end, it usually takes me longer to set the thing up than they can stand to be out there. They get bored easily. We don’t live on a busy street, so, usually, twenty minutes, tops. And if there are any bugs out there — well, just forget that altogether.
So today is the first nice day that they have had off, and they started right in with Can we have a lemonade stand? Can we have a lemonade stand? Can we have a lemonade stand? Mom, can we have a lemonade stand? Mom?
We had a number of errands to run today, so we left the house around 9 and got back around 2:30. For at least an hour prior to our return, the lemonade stand was continually requested. Promises were made; claims that certain people were old enough to run their own lemonade stands and such. I was exhausted. I asked for an hour to collect myself before the stand would begin, to no avail of course. We got in the house and they set about making signs, which lasted about five minutes before they started with the barrage of inquiries.
Mom, where is the Sharpie? (In the cup holder) Mom, where are the cups? (In the pantry closet.) Mom, where’s the lemonade mix? (In the lazy susan.) Mom, what is the lazy susan? (I point to the one built in the corner.) Is it over here in the pantry closet? Mom, which shelf is it on? Is this it? (No, Edison, that’s baking powder.) What does it look like? (It looks like a container with the word “LEMONADE” on it.)
Finally, I gave in, made the lemonade, and they went outside for about as long as it has taken me to write this post.