Cough up the cash

What do donuts, an old door and a drill sans its charger, and a desire to be rich all have in common?  A spring garage sale.  At least the “rich” pipedream was the desire of the Bug and the Worm, my grandkids.

They painstakingly plowed through the basket in the upstairs closet, adding a few neglected toys to the antiques strewn out on an old blanket.  A bright yellow car minus its passenger, and maybe a wheel, limped next to two colorful figurines that once sported strands of PlayDough hair popping through holes in their heads.  I could see dollar signs shaping before the Worm’s eyes as she gazed upon her reduced-for-quick-sale items.

Wasn’t it just yesterday, I wondered, that they had played with the “three men in a tub” boat, and the wooden puzzle, now missing a few pieces?  Garage sales are displays of memories, too soon left behind. 

The grandkids, dressed up to make a steal, colored signs and taped them to the street standard.  For a while they marched up and down the sidewalk to attract customers.  The Bug suggested we have a lemonade sale, but the little backyard tree boasted only one lemon.  He found some old Christmas candy in one of the garage drawers, some of Couponman’s hidden stash.  He dumped it in a bowl set out for buyers, and proudly tagged the red foil-wrapped treats “free.”

The Bug taped a sign to the old interior door now replaced by an archway, “$7.00 — cough up the cash.”  And someone did.  I gave the Bug $1 of my profits for advertising the item so well.  His smile broadened, but the Worm was forlorn.  She hadn’t yet made a sale. 

Just as we were about to close up shop, a child eyeing the handful of lonely toys succeeded in coaxing his mom into splurging for the play figures.  The Worm now had 50 cents in her pocket, and half the jelly donut on her face.  Not bad for a morning’s earnings.

Related posts:

1. Weekend at grandma’s
2. I am woman, hear me roar
3. Game night with grandkids
4. Little bite of Denmark
5. Life is no dress rehearsal