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Rivky's Lemonade Stand

Ages 6-9 | Story and 9 activities

Rivky has been planning her lemonade stand for two whole weeks. She has a sign with yellow letters and a jar for money. She has a pitcher, twenty paper cups, and a box of cookies her sister Chani has helped bake.

On Sunday morning, she carries everything to the end of the driveway. She sets up the folding table. She tapes the sign to the front. She pours the first cup, just to be sure it tastes perfect.

It does. Sweet and sour, with ice that clinks.

Rivky sits on her little stool and waits.

A car drives by. It doesn't stop. A man walks past with a large brown dog. He waves, but he doesn't stop either.

Rivky waits some more. Five minutes go by, then ten. A bird lands on the table, looks at the cookies, and flies off.

"Nobody is coming," Rivky says to the bird, even though it is gone.

Her stomach feels heavy, as if she has swallowed a stone. Her eyes begin to sting. She has worked so hard. Everything is ready. It isn't fair.

She crosses her arms and puts her chin on her chest. "This was a terrible idea," she says. "I'm packing it all up."

Just then, the front door opens. Chani comes out, carrying a glass of water and a notebook.

"Why the long face?" asks Chani.

"No customers," says Rivky. "None. Zero. I got ready for nothing."

Chani sits down on the curb. She doesn't say "Don't be sad." She doesn't say "It's no big deal." She says, "That's a real disappointment. You worked hard and it didn't turn out the way you pictured."

Rivky sniffles. It helps, a little, to hear someone say it out loud.

"I picture it, and then it's different," she says. "I don't like that."

"Me too," says Chani. "But here is something I learned. When the first plan doesn't work, it doesn't mean the whole thing is ruined. It might just mean we need a plan B."

"What's plan B?" asks Rivky.

"I don't know yet. Let's look at what we know." Chani opens her notebook. "Fact one. Nobody has come. Fact two. This street is very quiet on Sunday mornings."

Rivky looks up and down the street. It is true. Hardly anyone is outside.

"Where are the people?" asks Chani.

Rivky thinks. "At the park! The park has a playground, and the families go there. And Mrs. Rosen's garden is on the way, and she always has visitors on Sundays."

"So what could plan B be?"

Rivky wipes her eyes with her sleeve. A tiny spark of an idea comes to her. "We could carry the stand to the corner by the park path. Lots of people walk there."

"That's a great plan B," says Chani. "Do you want to try it?"

Rivky takes a slow breath. Her stomach still feels a little heavy, but not like a stone anymore. More like a pebble.

"Yes," she says.

Together they fold the table and carry the pitcher, the cups, and the cookie boxes down the block. Chani carries the sign. Rivky carries the jar. They set up again at the corner, next to the park path.

This time, a little boy with a scooter stops right away. "How much?" he asks.

"Fifty cents," says Rivky. Her voice comes out wobbly, but she keeps going. "Would you like a cookie too?"

By noon, the pitcher is empty. The jar is full of coins. Rivky counts them twice, then three times. There are enough for a new set of colored markers and a little extra to put in the tzedakah box.

That night Rivky counts the coins one more time on her bed. Chani puts her head in the door.

"Same spot next Sunday?"

"Same spot," says Rivky. "But I'm bringing a bigger pitcher."