It all ends with Mary, age 6, walking in to the Farmers’ Market this morning and demanding to know “Do you sell liquor here?”
Mary is the entrepreneur of the kids. She is always looking to make a buck. She doesn’t much like spending money (not more than any other kid, I guess) but she’s nuts for making it. That all sounds like a great attribute in a kid but, when I ask for her help, half the time she wants to know the pay upfront and gets a little pouty when I tell her “nothing”.
When we first were considering the move to Vermont, Mary’s first reaction was “I’m going to have a roadside farm stand!” She hasn’t forgotten this in the intervening months and, on the first nice day, she broke ground.
The whiskey company that Leo works for has toyed with the idea of having a table at the local farmers market. They have many vegetable beds at their farm and could easily supply enough to sell. Mary picked up on that and it was a done deal, at least to her.
I’m not sure how we started talking about her selling the actual whiskey, but that was mentioned. Leo’s boss told her that she’d get a $5 commission per bottle. Her eyes got wide. “How many people are there at the Farmers’ Market?” She was adding it up. The train had already left the station and it was all over.
As she was going to bed, I tried to temper the excitement: “Honey, I don’t think they allow liquor sales in the Farmers’ Market”. “But maybe, maybe they do!” she countered. “And, if they did allow liquor sales, they wouldn’t let 6 year olds sell it”. “Let’s check it out together tomorrow”.
It was a plan. Let the powers-that-be break my daughter’s heart! I’m not proud of my parenting decisions but being the bad guy All. The. Time. gets old.
So, this morning, we headed out to the Farmers’ Market. It just so happened that we were a little early so we stopped at the Otter Creek Bakery, you know, just to kill time (I didn’t pad in an extra 20 minutes on purpose, promise). I’m in love with this place. Seriously. It is teeny-tiny and yet they have such an incredible variety of things (all yummy). I got a cappuccino, adorned with a C (which I’d like to think was for me but is more likely for Cappuccino) and an almond croissant with orange zest. Mary had an apple strudel and a hot chocolate. It was amazing. I love that place.
Then we hit the Farmers’ Market. And Mary walked in, demanding to know if they sold liquor. The guy she asked didn’t seem nearly as startled as I imagine I might be. The winter market is in an elementary school and the guy thought that, that alone would probably mean the answer is no. He thought it might still be possible for the summer market, though. So thank you, Farmers’ Market Dude, for keeping my six year old daughter’s liquor selling dreams alive. Hopefully the whiskey company lawyer (Leo) can do a little research on that on before Memorial Day. And then he can break her heart. In the meantime, we’ll be developing alternate business plans.