the wiener and the mysterious pull of the business debacle that is the lemonade stand

It's tiiiiiime... I saw my first one over the weekend. There they were, set up right next to the bike trail; never mind that most people biking or running on the trail are doing so for exercise and are not prepared to make any purchases, however enticing they might be. And what I ask you is more enticing than a dixie cup of kool-aid, or dare I even hope... countrytime lemonade?

The lemonade stand: a rite of passage for all children with any amount of interest in money or fleeting boredom. I remember my first (and only) lemonade stand. I didn't carry lemonade, because my mom said it was too expensive to make, which I totally didn't get. It's just like water and lemons and sugar right? Oh, but you need like a thousand and eleven lemons to make a pitcher of lemonade. So I had kool-aid. Important decisions were made. Signage was considered and created in a way to woo the most consumers. Prices were set. 10 cents, no, 20, no how about 25 cents. I was going to be rich! Then two hours and a small pile of dixie cups later, I've got $2.75 in my pocket and a heat rash. My mom wasn't even one of those tough love moms that demanded back the money to pay for the kool-aid.

So, the lemonade stand lives on, still mostly kool-aid stands because with inflation and the weakened dollar, blah, blah, blah (throw global warming in there too) lemons probably cost twice as much as they did twenty odd years ago. You probably also need twice as many, becuase of course they don't make lemons like they used to. The kids now encourage you to recycle your cup with their cute pro-environment crayoned signs. The cup of kool-aid is likely to cost at least 50 cents now. You're also more likely to be harassed by the proprieters than you used to be. "Hey, you, buy some lemonade! Hey! Hey!"

I know the day will come when big wiener fancies himself a businessman and sets up a card table in the drive way. He's already shown some interest. He was eyeing up the lemons at the grocery store, before I dashed his dreams by trying to explain how expensive they are. What will I say when he approaches me with a business plan to make millions by dispensing beverages to passers by?

I'll try not to be too cynical. I'll find him a sleeve of tiny cups that just begin to peak the thirst of a buyer, enticing them into another 50 cent cup. I'll help him spell lemonade, or maybe not. Maybe it's cuter if it's misspelled. Cuter, or more endearing at least. I'll watch from the front porch to make sure he's not abducted, or mowed down by a car that jumps the curb. I'll give him a hug when he comes to tell me that he only made $2.75. I won't even make him pay for the kool-aid.