On a bright afternoon, two young sisters set up a modest lemonade stand at the corner with their dad. With just a folding table, two pitchers, and a handwritten sign that read “LEMONADE 50¢,” they smiled wide, wearing matching pink Crocs as soft music played nearby.
Despite the heat, their happiness was infectious.
About an hour later, a white SUV pulled up. A woman inside snapped a photo and said the sale wasn’t “permitted.” Shortly after, a police car arrived.
Their dad quickly explained that the girls were simply having fun, not running a business. Instead of reprimanding them, the officer crouched down and asked if the lemonade was fresh. The girls nodded, nervously.
He bought two cups, gave each a fist bump, then calmly crossed the street to speak with the neighbor who had called. His message was gentle but clear: calling emergency services over a lemonade stand wasn’t necessary. Selling lemonade is a part of childhood, he reminded her.
By the next day, everything was different.
