I see them but turn the car right purposely away. It’s not that I don’t like lemonade, it’s that I don’t have any cash. Debit cards have made us a nation that jingles very little when we walk.
At Kroger, checking out (with my debit), I punch the button for cash back. What a novelty to hold paper money in my hand. I slip it into my wallet and rush back to the car.
The lemonade stand is still in business when I turn down Knollbrook. Two kids yell to passing cars with such unbridled enthusiasm I think this must be the best lemonade in the history of mankind.
I pull over and roll down my window. “I’ll take one,” I shout. A blond-haired boy climbs my running board and hangs from my passenger side window.
“You know we have cookies, too,” he says. “Do you want one? They’re really, really good.”
“Well,” I smile. “Only if they’re really, really good.”
He calls in the order to his partner and a little girl walks over a glass of lemonade and a cookie wrapped in a white paper napkin.
I head home and surprise my husband with an unexpected afternoon treat. He works out of our home office and somehow manages to keep his job with all the chaos of three boys playing indoor baseball during conference calls. If anyone needs a cookie, he does.