The Sacred Art of Lemonade Stands

Sometimes we get so tangled up in the last days of summer, becoming cloaked in this really itchy, ugly Christmas sweater called ANXIETY and GENERALLY FREAKING OUT, that we forget to do the things we love, like listening to Grimes's "Crystal Ball" over and over again, doodling in Moleskines (sketchbook love), writing stories, and playing with two little mice called Moe and Twinkie.

What a cutie Moe is. She's pretty feisty, though. HEART OF A WARRIOR. Twinkie, on the other hand, likes to tunnel around their cage and eat Frosted Flakes like the glutton she aspires to be.

On Sunday though, two days before the start of 8th grade, I woke up fairly early and started to head downstairs for breakfast. Seriously, FIVE SECONDS passed on the stairs before my dad found me and said, "Why don't you make a lemonade stand?" 

This was an opportunity I could not refuse. My very first lemonade stand. (Well, actually my second. My friend and I made a lemonade stand in 3rd grade. He and I split the two dollars we managed to make.) So, I basically went back upstairs and collected a bunch of old picture books that had no sentimental value and vapid teen magazines and I put them in a little box and then threw that box into a wagon, along with a fancy-schmancy glass pitcher of lemonade and I trucked it to the end of my driveway. Also, fake flowers.

All in all, it was

a really successful lemonade stand. There were always those few bikers that would pass by, obviously not in the mood to stop, and I'd always give them a smile and a piercing stare that said, "Yeah, you better keep cycling."

Ok, I wasn't really thinking that. I'm not as intimidating as I wish I was.

My siblings weren't very helpful, and I'm actually extremely grateful for that. Generally speaking, if my brother or sister lift a single finger for your benefit, they expect a golden calf and a banquet fit for any king. I was not prepared to fork over any of my hard-earned lemon money after they begrudgingly grab the lemonade mix from our kitchen, although I did finally agree to give some money to my sister. She did help reel in the customers with her adorable little freckles and empty-toothed smile.

ISN'T SHE A CUTIE.

AND THEN WE MADE $21.75 AND LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER. AMEN.