Lemonade will always taste like success to me

Finally held my yard sale this weekend. It was supposed to happen weeks ago, but a stomach bug and the weather conspired against us.

It was fun, with a bunch of friends and relatives bringing stuff over to sell. And we're talking good stuff, too: A ceramic poodle, a bird feeder shaped like a winter hat, and at least one lamp that doesn't work, but would be fine with like $59 in parts and a couple hours of labor.

If any of those things sound good to you, let me know. They are still in my garage. The sale didn't go so well, which is unusual for us, a crowd of folks proud of our ability to foist our unneeded, unused and unwashed on our neighbors.

Many of them decided, quite selfishly, to go to the beach instead. And the ones that did come apparently already have chipped Santa cookie jars, melty Halloween candles and trophy tops.

Only one person really made out well...my 5-year-old son Jude. He had a toy/book sale and a lemonade stand. And he worked it.

He cornered anyone under 6, and was like: "What's it going to take to get you into this dump truck today?" "What, you haven't read Goodnight Moon? All the cool kids have read Goodnight Moon." No one got away without dropping a quarter on too-sweet, too-warm lemonade.

I think he even sold a few timeshares.

All was not lost (for me, anyway). At the yard sale's end, he proposed giving me all his dollars for my much-shiner quarters. I'll straighten him out before he hits the eighth grade or so, but I really didn't see any rush...