Birth of a Saleswoman

Our 8-year-old likes to play Barbies, dress up and dolls like most little girls. But her favorite past time has very little to do with these typical childhood games. Her first passion is door-to-door sales.

When I was a kid, I hated having to knock on doors selling magazine subscriptions or candy bars for my school or club. Unfortunately for our neighbors, our daughter loves this.

The minute she receives her school raffle tickets she heads begins hitting people up with a practiced pitch that emphasizes purchasing not just one ticket but a whole book. She joined Brownies this fall and the highlight of that was selling Girl Scout cookies.

But she doesn’t need an organization to inspire her door-to-door sales. When she was four, she and a friend made cards and scoured the neighborhood selling them. After her first failed sale, she ran home, tears streaming down her face. “She didn’t have to say it so mean mom,” she said. “She could’ve said it nice.”

A few breaths later she had shaken it off and bounced away, determined that someone else would be inspired to purchase her creations.

Elizabeth has initiated countless lemonade stands, the most popular kid marketing scheme. The fact that we live on a cul-de-sac, however, makes for awfully slow sales in the middle of a workday. She’s learned the truth of the mantra, “Location. Location. Location.”

Last summer she set up a spa and offered manicures, pedicures and makeovers to anyone who could afford them. She designed invitations, delivered them to the most likely clients, prepared lemon water for her customers, hung up her sign on front of the porch and waited to get rich. Two customers later she was totally satisfied with her success.

Elizabeth’s entrepreneurial spirit is contagious. This weekend, her brothers set up a plant sale in our front yard. They conned me into buying them each a pack of impatiens, which they then divided and sold at twice my cost to anyone who walked within earshot of our house.

Our friend Mitch stopped by and said he’d take three but didn’t have the money on him. When a few minutes had passed and Mitch hadn’t gone home to grab his cash, Sam interrupted the conversation with an urgent question. “When is Mitch going to pay us? They aren’t fwee ya know.” Sam’s not as smooth as his sister.

Elizabeth’s latest venture is dog baths. She gathered a kit of supplies – a leash, shampoo, a brush, pet treats and doggie breath mints -- and was heading down the street seeking business before I knew what she was doing. She and her pal offered willing four-legged friends the full spa treatment for just two dollars. Quite a deal, I thought.

She marched next door to Bill’s house first. Bill, who owns a sweet and docile black lab, has paid a pretty penny over the years for warm, watery lemonade so I’m sure she expected an easy sale.

When she came back without a dog to wash, I thought that might be the end of her latest business venture. But, she was un-phased. “Who else has a dog?” she said, looking with determination down the block -- her box of doggie spa supplies resting on her hip.

Before I could respond, she was already out of our yard. She had dollar signs in her eyes, which were clearly set on a neighbor three houses away where four dachshunds with bad breath were surely waiting for some doggie pampering.

Perhaps it’s the innocence of her youth, but I hope she is always able to see the opportunity that exists beyond every closed door.

A Day with a Four Year Old

During a recent day with my four year old, something prompted me to step back from my roles as mother and teacher and observe how he approaches life.

The day started in a familiar way. He refused to wear the cute outfit I had selected and pulled on a grubby sports t-shirt and his favorite thread-bare sweatpants that are two inches too short.

Lesson one: Don’t do something just because someone suggested you should. Make your own decision.

Later that morning we went to the clinic for an appointment. We picked out a couple books to read while we were waiting, but the doctor arrived before we had time to finish them.

After the exam, as I prepared to leave, Sam objected, “But we didn’t read the books mom.” Thoughts of “more important” things to do came to mind, and I started to say, “Yeah, I know, but now we must get going.” But I realized we could spare enough time to read those books.

So we did. Dr. Seuss’s “Happy Birthday to You,” left us both smiling and was well worth the extra 10 minutes.

Lesson two: What’s the rush? Allow yourself time for things you enjoy.

On the way home we stopped at the grocery store. Sam walked straight for the “grocery cars.” A small basket would’ve been more than enough, but I went along with his choice.

As we rolled through the aisles he hung out the window of the “grocery car” and waved his arms like he was riding along the Pacific Coast Highway in a convertible. How I longed to be with him in his imaginary place – it was clearly more fun than the grocery store.

Lesson three: Use your imagination and the mundane can become magical.

We arrived home and an unusually warm January sun made the air feel like spring. Despite two-foot snow banks lining the sidewalk, Sam decided it was time to ride bike. So, we dug out his helmet and pulled his Incredible Hulk two-wheeler off the ceiling hooks in the garage.

He sped away, but within seconds a sheet of snow and ice sent him flat on his belly. I thought that might be the end of the January biking adventure, but I was wrong. He accepted my advice for maneuvering under slippery conditions and pedaled off, this time more carefully.

When we neared the end of the block, he suddenly hopped off the bike. “Oops. He’s had enough,” I thought. Wrong again. A smooth patch of ice by his feet screamed, “Dance on me.” So Sam shuffled around on the ice for a bit, enjoying a little boot dance in a neighbor’s driveway.

Lesson four: Be spontaneous, and joyful. If the spirit moves you, dance!

Soon it was time for lunch. Sam ate a half bowl of daily gruel and a few slices of apple. “Done mom,” he said and hopped down. He declined my offer of a treat saying, “I’m full mom. My tummy beeped.”

Lesson five: Stop eating when you’re full.

If you’re blessed to have a four-year-old in your life, take time today to see what he or she can teach you. If not, go ahead and borrow a couple lessons from Sam. Think for yourself. Be imaginative, spontaneous and joyful. Take time for things you enjoy. And listen carefully for your tummy to beep.