I watched her out the kitchen window, sitting at the end of the driveway with her small kid's table, her pitcher, three large red cups and a crayon sign that said, "Lemonade 50 cents." She looked small and lonely sitting out there by herself.  It's a quiet street. Only the occasional dog walker passes by.  She waved to passing cars, but no one stopped.  She came inside for some paper and pencils and returned to her post.

Worries flitted through my mind.  Do people really kidnap children right from the end of their driveway? Is that why we don't know the neighbors? Or is that just some exaggerated anxiety that needn't keep us so apart from one another?  What if no one comes to the lemonade stand?  Will she be crushed? Will this damage her developing relationship with the world? Will she somehow internalize the idea that no one wants what she has to offer?

She sat out there for an hour.  She drew pictures.  She waved at passing cars.  She rooted through the trunk of my car and found a ball and glove. She put more signs on the fence.  She drank some of the lemonade. No one stopped. No one bought lemonade. It was excruciating--for me!

Then suddenly she burst through the front door yelling, "I've got a buddy!" She dashed back out the door after snatching a few more cups. Out the kitchen window I saw that another girl, about my daughter's size, had joined her at the lemonade stand. Where had this girl come from?  How have we lived here for years and not noticed another girl my daughter's age in the neighborhood? Soon another child joined them, then a toddler out walking with his grandmother. The lemonade pitcher slowly emptied and soon my kitchen filled with children and neighbors I had never met all passing lemons and mixing sugar and playful banter.

My daughter's patience and leap of faith brought much more than an early lesson in business.  Maybe the sign should have said, "Community 50 cents."

I have to tell you about my crying experience with my one-year-old daughter.  After a very short surgery under anesthesia delivered through a mask, she was brought back to me.  She (as expected) was crying and mad, and probably confused.  Her crying went on for a while.

The nurse came in after a bit to ask me if she had a "temper at home too" to which I answered "Yes."  My daughter continued to cry (she was really mad) while I was hugging her.  A neighbor mother asked if she could help by giving me her blankie or something.  "No, thanks, it's OK."  I let her cry.  I went for a walk, and I offered her water and breast thinking she was probably hungry.  Then I went back to my room and my daughter continued to cry. 

The nurse came back and told me, "Nine out of ten kids do better once you put them into their car seat and they understand you are going home."  I told the nurse I did not want her to be so upset in the car through morning rush-hour traffic.  Finally, I closed the door and sat on a chair where the nurse could not see me, and my daughter continued to cry.  She was really mad and did not want anything. 

After 30 minutes of crying in my arms she started to soothe herself, then went back to crying, every time a smaller cry.  Her body started relaxing, she was breathing better, and finally fell asleep in my arms in a very relaxed state. 

I cannot tell you how relieved I was that I did not feel like I needed to entertain her, distract her or stop her from having her feelings.  I was calm and with an internal peace I have not had in a while.  I knew I was there for her, but that it was not my responsibility to "make her" feel better, that she just needed to to feel her pain, confusion and anger. 

My daughter slept soundly for 4 hours.  Then she woke up happy and relaxed! It worked!