It began innocently.

“I feel like a smoothie,” my seven-year old announced when he came home from school. “A strawberry banana smoothie.” I happily oblige. I like whipping up something quick and nutritious.

“How about we have a smoothie stand?” he asked.

“Uh, we do not have that many bananas.” I am looking for excuses while trying to figure out how bad it would be to get involved in another messy afternoon project. I came from work and I am tired.

“The strawberry smoothies?”

Uh, I want to casually dismiss the idea. How? My grey matter refuses to come up with the solution. I need advice and call my husband. Before I get anywhere and get panicky when his extension doesn’t work six times in a row, my son drags a little table to the curb. I think what the heck! and proceed making smoothies.

By the time the little entrepreneur takes them out to the curb, my husband calls. “You called?” he asks.

“Yes, I need help. Carl is selling smoothies at the curb.”

“He does what?”

“He tries to sell smoothies at the curb.”

After a hearty laugh he tells me, “Don’t worry. He won’t sell anything.”

“How embarrassing!” I reply. I grew up in a family that looked down at the mercenary mindedness. We would give things away when it was assumed that someone needed them.

I hear Carl shouting, “Get your smoothies here!” I say bye to Markus and rush outside to take a picture of what might be another fleeting moment. He looks cute with an orange table and chartreuse chair and matching glasses. “Get your smoothies here!” he shouts and signals to cars.

I retreat inside. I hear him shouting for another ten minutes. He gets disappointed. No one buys smoothies. He comes inside.

“Did you think it will be easy?”

“Do you think they hear me in the cars?”

“I don’t know.”

I feel for him and make a mental note to buy lemonade at each lemonade stand I will ever encounter.

“Earning money is not easy,” I tell him. “Go and try again.” I’m afraid he will give up too easily.

I need not worry. He goes out and continues to shout. His voice echoes. I imagine the neighbors going crazy and running outside to buy the smoothies that are mentioned every other second.

I want to record the voice to have proof for his dad and go out again bumping into a neighborhood girl who comes by and buys two. “Don’t forget to bring the glasses back!” Carl is on the go. “Get your smoothies here! “ His voice bounces off the house across the road.

I think: ‘If they do not come, I might come out and buy the smoothies myself. Oh, that will be so wrong!’

I stand next to the gate and quietly observe him. Then it dawns on me that he will be alright. He’s got such drive. That moment I understand what the drive is. This guy has so much energy and he channels it into something that he wants to do and you just see this burst of energy that I wonder if I ever had it.

I understand that there are people who are simply more driven than others. I learn from this experience, as he does. The smoothies are gone within twenty minutes. We get to know a couple of neighborhood kids. This is awesome! Carl is bouncing off the walls in his usual manner.

“Next we will sell pizza,” he says.

By Dilyara Breyer

Labels: bananas, children entrepreneurs, Dilyara Breyer, pizza, smoothies

Stumble This Post