My eight-year-old wanted a computer game. Instead of negotiating with me, he opted to set up a table in front of our house and sell merchandise. For starters, he had a couple of unopened Lego kits that were small party favors courtesy of recent birthdays. He also laid out a dozen of his own Pokémon cards. When I noticed that these cards were basic, he pointed to the “buy one, get one free” sign he’d made. “It’s marketing, Dad.”
My aspiring entrepreneur wished to profit from food and beverage sales as well. Although he did not dip into his stash of Valentine’s Day candy, my chocolates were on the table right beside cans of sparkling water. When I protested that these items were for my consumption, he argued that, if he had asked, I probably would have given him one. So, why couldn’t he sell it?
As far as his target clientele, he sold dog biscuits. I understood the marketing angle toward our canine-loving neighborhood. But once again, I pointed out that the items were intended for personal use, in this case, our own house wolf. He reminded me that, the other day, I had complained that a certain creature had been packing on the pounds.
He also put the dog hair brush up for sale, but this drew no complaint. Our dog hates that brush and would happily donate to a better cause.
The real stroke of business genius, however, involved enlisting his younger sister. Earlier that day, she had been fitted for a leg cast after breaking her tibia over the weekend at the devil’s playground, a.k.a. trampoline park. Who can resist stopping for a bright-eyed, smiling youngster seated in a wheelchair?
Our daughter’s leg will heal. My son seems destined to make money hand over fist. I hope he puts his profits to good use. Like taking care of his old man.
Andrew Taylor-Troutman is the author of “Little Big Moments,” a collection of mini-essays about parenting, and “Tigers, Mice & Strawberries: Poems.” Both titles are available most anywhere books are sold online. Taylor-Troutman lives in Chapel Hill where he serves as pastor of Chapel in the Pines Presbyterian Church and occasionally stumbles upon the wondrous while in search of his next cup of coffee.
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