The next morning, I had a problem. Mom’s words from yesterday kept echoing in my head: “You’re going to need to figure out a better way to get here.”
I couldn’t expect her to drive me to the park every day. But how was I supposed to carry a heavy cooler full of snacks all that way?
I was digging through the garage looking for a bigger cooler when I spotted it in the corner, covered in dust and spider webs.
An old red wagon.
It had been Jake’s when he was little, but he’d outgrown it years ago. The paint was chipped and one wheel squeaked, but it was still solid.
“Perfect,” I said, pulling it out and brushing off the cobwebs.
I loaded my cooler into the wagon, along with my folding table and sign. It was a little awkward to pull, but way better than trying to carry everything.
The walk to the park took about fifteen minutes, and I only had to stop twice to readjust the cooler when it started sliding around.
When I got to Riverside Park with my wagon train of snacks, I felt like a real entrepreneur.
This time, I knew exactly what I was doing.
By eleven o’clock, I had my first customer—a girl from yesterday who brought two friends.
“Three sodas,” she said, like she was a regular.
“Coming right up!”
By noon, there was actually a line. Kids were telling other kids about my stand. Parents were nodding approvingly as they watched their children make purchases.
A mom with a toddler walked up to my table while her older son bought a candy bar.
“This is wonderful,” she said, smiling at me. “Do you happen to sell water bottles? It’s so hot today.”
“Sorry, just sodas and candy bars,” I said.
“No problem.” She winked and followed her son back to the playground.
I made a mental note. Water bottles. Interesting idea.
“Can I get two candy bars and a soda?” a boy asked.
“Four dollars, please.”
He handed me the money without even blinking. Four dollars felt like a fortune. I was practically a business mogul. Maybe I should get business cards made.
As the afternoon went on, I found myself running low on inventory. But this time, it felt amazing instead of worrying. Running out meant people wanted what I was selling.
“Sorry, just one chocolate bar left,” I told a group of kids.
“I’ll take it!” three of them said at once.
I sold it to the first kid who’d spoken up. The other two looked disappointed but promised to come back tomorrow.
By the time three o’clock rolled around, I was completely sold out of candy bars and down to my last two sodas.
When Mom picked me up at three, I was practically vibrating with excitement.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“I sold almost everything!” I held up my mason jar, now heavy with coins and bills. “Look!”
Mom peered into the jar. “Wow, honey. That’s a lot of money.”
“I…” I said with a long pause, staring at my earnings.
“I really think I can do this.”