Life lesson # 147. Playing the sympathy card.

Yesterday I wrote about Number 4 and her cast,

and how I had decided to turn the situation into a lesson in dealing with disappointment,

and finding the silver lining in seemingly crappy situations.

Last night Number 3 had a baseball game.

We are in the middle of a heat wave here in CT.

The game,

and the heat,

made for the perfect opportunity to turn lemons into lemonade.

Literally.

So I went to the store,

bought some lemonade mix, plastic cups, and posterboard.

I spent about 10 dollars on supplies.

I went to the bank and got some change.

When I got home, Number 4 and I made a sign for the stand together — I wrote the words, and she colored them in. She also made a second sign on her own.

We mixed up a big cooler full of lemonade, and I put a table and a couple chairs in the back of the car.

We got to the game,

she picked out a shady spot,

and she set up shop.

The When Life Gives You Lemons Make Lemonade Stand was open for business.

About an hour before this picture was taken, Number 4 had a full blown meltdown.

Screaming.

Yelling.

Hysterically crying.

Writhing around on the floor.

She doesn’t handle discomfort well.

So when the cast starts to bother her,

she loses it.

This heat hasn’t helped.

The more uncomfortable she gets,

the more she freaks out,

which makes her even more uncomfortable.

That cycle continued for about 20 minutes yesterday.

I was running late, we had to go, and she was still carrying on.

I got everyone into the car, and I told her she wasn’t getting out until she had collected herself, which she managed to do on the drive to the game.

The minute she exited the car, her inner Mark Cuban came out.

Right away, people flocked to her.

She sat back and collected her cash.

Her table was set up about 75 yds away from where I was sitting to watch the game.

She was on the other side of the backstop, and I couldn’t really see her, so I would go and check on her every few minutes.

One of those times, she had a ten dollar bill in her money box, an old wipes container.

“Did someone buy ten dollars worth of lemonade?” I asked her.

“No,” she said matter-of-factly.

“They just wanted two cups. I gave them nine dollars in change.”

She clearly had things covered.

When there was a lull in the action,

she would run around the field soliciting business.

I saw her ask dads, moms, boys, girls, grandparents,

anyone,

if they wanted to buy some lemonade.

She brought in quite a bit of business that way.

And then,

the ice cream truck pulled up.

She took some of her money,

ran over,

and bought herself some ice cream.

And then she bought one for her friend.

And her sister.

With her own money.

I fell in love with her just a little bit more right then.

But she wasn’t about to let the ice cream man get off that easily.

After she finished her ice cream,

she went back to the truck,

and asked the ice cream man if he wanted some lemonade.

He was powerless.

She earned her money right back from him.

When business slowed down again,

she recruited some of her friends.

One of them walked around with her sign like a ring girl at a ufc match.

Number 4 paid her employees in free lemonade.

When the game was all over she gave free lemonade to all the players and coaches on Number 3’s team.

We got in the car and headed home.

Number 4 was already planning her next business venture.

“Mom?” she asked.

“When are we going to have another tag sale? Making money is really the only thing that takes my mind off my cast.”

My little entrepreneur.

Number 2 also had a game last night, so my husband went to that.

When we got home, Number 4 couldn’t wait to show her dad how much money she had made.

She ran inside with her box of money and started counting it.

She made $30.

Thirty freaking dollars.

We talked about profit.

I told her I would pay for her supplies this time around.

But next time, she’d have to cover her own costs.

I left her alone and let her tell her dad all about it.

She ran into the living room.

“Daddy! Look how much money I made!!!”

He was impressed by her totals.

I was impressed by her last comment.

“People bought a lot of lemonade, Dad.”

“You must have worked really hard,” he said.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“But Dad. The cast really helped.”

Didn’t take her long to figure that one out.

Time to start planning that tag sale.

At the rate she’s going, she’ll be able to retire by the time that cast comes off.