Pretty in pink

Summer has put the kettle on … high. 

Stay hydrated, my friends.

That won’t be hard if you follow a rule my husband and I instituted early on in our marriage.

Thou shalt stop at lemonade stands.

OK, maybe it’s not a commandment, but it is a guiding principle. I’d say we have a pretty good track record.

I’m not sure when we first started stopping. (Now, that’s a phrase my brain enjoyed … “started stopping.”) Back in the early ’90s, we pulled over somewhere in the middle of Wisconsin, en route to a family wedding in Fargo, N.D. Two little kids manned the stand — on a very unbusy side road — and they happily poured cups for my husband, me and our own two little kids. Score one for Midwest-East Coast relations.

In every type of business, there are lambs, and there are sharks. 

The lambs splash out a 16-ounce cup and shyly ask for a quarter. (I’ve done the math. Clearly these kids need a union.) 

But that’s where another rule kicks in: Leave a good tip.

Sadly, even in the lemonade business, the buyer must beware.

A few weeks ago I spotted the sure signs of a lemonade stand — lawn chairs and a small table at the end of a driveway.  Two kids were heading back to their posts as I pulled over.

I crossed the street, taking out a dollar bill. Seeing no sign, I asked how much for a cup.

The boy paused, glancing down at the bill in my hand. He looked up and said:

“A dollar.”

Hmm, I thought, as I handed it over. Sharks start young.