Super Stone

I am completely enamoured with the little girl who lives across the street from us. I had sort of lost hope for childhood after reading one too many stories in the news about the violent, selfish, lazy and/or spoiled children that my generation seems to have rasied. I worried for Hayden's future self. Until last night.

Shortly after we got home, the little girl across the street and her girlfriend dragged a giant cardboard box to the sidewalk. They spent ages drawing and writing on two brightly coloured bristol boards and on the box itself. I watched as they eagerly held up their bright signs to anyone who drove past or walked even close to their house. Curiosity got the better of me and I took Hayden on the front porch to get a better look. As soon as I was spotted, a pair of neon signs were flashed in my direction.

Hayden and I sauntered across the street to peruse their sidewalk store. They were selling hand painted rocks for .50 each. My heart instantly melted. This was exactly the kind of thing I used to do. I asked them if they were saving up for anything special and they beamed as they told me that Father's Day was coming soon and they wanted to buy their dads something very special.

Hayden and I carefully scanned the rocks and just as he was about to choose one, one of our mini salesladies explained that these rocks were for display only. The ones for sale were in the smaller box to the side. Trying to suppress my laughter, we turned our attention to said box and chose two very pretty rocks: one that said "LOVE" in swirly letters and another with a carefully drawn red flower.

I duly paid my $1 and thanked them for my beautiful rocks. They then asked for my name and explained that they were only going to sell 50 rocks before taking a break for a week because painting rocks is hard work! Again, I bit back my laughter and nodded at their solemn business sense. I wished them good luck and walked across the street, proudly displaying my new painted rocks on our front windowsill.

Not five minutes later, the doorbell rang. Standing on my porch was one of my mini salesladies. She proudly thrust a small piece of paper into my hand and explained that I had forgotten my receipt. At this point I was completely in love with these little girls. I thanked her kindly and said it would come in handy in case I needed any more rocks and forgot where to go. As she skipped back across the street to her cardboard store front I took at look at my receipt. They had carefully penned in my name, the date, the number of rocks and the cost along with the name of their store: Super Stone.

As I watched them out our front window randomly throughout the evening, they danced between manning the store front and playing in the yard. Eventually the box was dragged back into the garage for next time and the girls bounded hand in hand into the house. I was left with a lovely warm feeling of optimism. Their simple idea to make some money for Father's Day and the true dedication they put into their little business just caught me by surprise. It made me hopeful that my treasured childhood memories and activities hadn't been completely lost with this new generation. There are still kids who work for what they want and take pride in what they do. These two little entrepreneurs reinstated my hope for the next generation with just a handful of brightly painted stones sold at a cardboard store front.