Andy's Antics - The Fourth of July

Rene dried her hands on a kitchen towel, having just finished cleaning the counter, and watched as her son Andy returned from being out with a friend. He put a bag of ice in the freezer and, smiling casually, said “Hey, Mom!” as he walked past her and went to his room, a Dollar Tree bag in hand. He came out of his room a few minutes later and went to the cupboard. He grabbed the box of cereal, shoved his hand inside for a handful, then opened another cupboard for a bowl while simultaneously shoving the handful inside his mouth. 

Rene wasn’t angry about this. He’d bought the box himself. He could be a caveman if he wanted to, as long as he restricted the behavior to his box only. He opened the fridge for the milk. Since his mom was standing right there, he did not drink from the container. He gave her a knowing smile and a raised eyebrow which clearly but silently said, “See? Do you see that I’m pouring it into the bowl and not directly into my mouth?” She gave back her own knowing smile that conveyed that she knew full well that he probably wouldn’t behave so well if she weren’t standing there. 

“So, why the ice?” she asked.

“Oh, you know, it’s summer. I thought it’d be nice to have plenty.”

She pointed to the fridge, indicating the button that would release ice.

“I know,” he said. “But I still wanted a bag of it.”

“Hmm,” she said. And then she let it go because sometimes with teens, that’s what a parent does.  Surely there were worse things that he could buy. 

The next day was July 4. Andy was in the kitchen, stirring lemonade in a huge pitcher. Rene walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. “That looks good,” she said to her son. 

Andy grinned. “Yep. It is. Because I made it.”

She gave a shake of her head and managed not to roll her eyes. Her ever-so-humble son was always saying such things. “I’m going out to the garage to talk to your dad,” she said.

“Okay,” said Andy.

A few minutes later both parents heard the door open, then a slight thump as something bumped against the door, though not hard. Then they saw their son carry the card table down the driveway. “Andy, what are you doing?” his dad called.

“Nothing!” said Andy.

The parents looked at each other. Nothing. Right.

Andy set up the table and walked back up the driveway. He grinned at his parents and leaped up the front porch steps with the agility of youth. He returned a few minutes later with a large poster board. “Lemonade” was written on it in large, bold letters. A few lemons had been drawn in as well. He carried the poster board to the table and took a roll of tape from his pocket. 

“Did you say he could do that?” Rene asked.

“Nope,” said her husband.

“Huh. Should we stop him?”

“Nah. Let him figure out that no one’s going to buy lemonade from a seventeen year old.”

And so they simply watched as Andy made his trips back and forth with the lemonade, the cooler with ice, the cups, and lastly, the chair. And then nothing happened, so the parents went inside. 

About half an hour later, Rene looked out the window and saw that there was a line of people at Andy’s lemonade stand. She strained her neck to get a closer look and she saw that a small boy was sitting in a chair next to Andy’s chair. When did Andy put another chair out there? Ah, she could see it was a camping chair that they kept in the garage. 

The little boy looked like a miniature of Andy, and another mother may have felt her throat catch with emotion at the sheer beauty of seeing the two sitting side by side.  Another mother might have been so proud that her son had taken the time to help a little kid sell lemonade. But this was Andy’s mother, and as such, she knew full well that this was no sentimental moment to celebrate. No, Andy was using the cuteness of this little boy to help sell lemonade! And look at all those people, stopping to buy! Of course they were. She knew who the neighbor was - his name was Oliver and he  lived three houses down. Oliver was the adorable type with huge round eyes and floppy hair. She watched now as he used both hands to very carefully give a lady her cup of lemonade. No one can resist a child who still has to use both hands to hold a cup! He probably was even sticking his tongue out just a tiny bit the way small children do when a task requires great effort. And next to him, smiling encouragingly, was Andy. Her son. 

She waited several minutes for the break in the crowd. Then she went outside. She walked to the table and said hi to Oliver before saying, “Andy, we need to talk.” She motioned for him to step away and to stand near her.  “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Selling lemonade,” he whispered back.

“But Oliver. You are using him to bring in customers!”

“Mom! I would never -”

She stopped him with a look.

“Okay.” he conceded.

“You asked his mom?”

“Yeah. She said he could sit with me for an hour, and to bring him home if he wanted to come home earlier. She said if he wanted to, he could help again after his nap.”

“Hmm. Well, you are paying him half.”

“Half! Mom, I had to buy the stuff! And set it all up! He didn’t help with that.”

“He’s four!” she exclaimed, still whispering. “And you wouldn’t have any customers if he weren’t sitting with you! So, he gets half or you are closing shop.”

Andy sighed. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she said.  She went to the front of the table. “I’ll buy a lemondade.” Andy picked up the pitcher and poured the cup. He placed it in front of Oliver, who used both hands (such tiny hands!),  keeping his eyes on the cup until he successfully handed it to Rene. Then he looked at her, eyes shining with the pleasure of knowing he’d done well. And dang it there it was - a flashback of Andy doing the same when he was four years old, selling lemonade in this same spot. Funny how a memory can be both sweet and painful at the same time.  She swallowed back the tears that suddenly wanted to come, and made herself smile. “Great job, Oliver. Thank you.” She paid for her cup and walked back to the house. She took a sip - it was cold and delicious. She saw Oliver point to something on the ground, a bug perhaps. She saw Andy lean over to look at it,  and then he said something that made Oliver laugh. She took another sip and went inside. It would be a good Fourth of July.