Popcorn Time

If my Oldest had been born fifty years earlier, he probably would have grown up to be a Fuller Brush Man or the dreaded vaacuum sales dealer or the encyclopedia salesman.  He simply loves knocking on people's door and asking if they would like to buy Boy Scout Popcorn.  And yes, it's that time of year again where the adventure begins.

I have spent countless hours following him around to stranger's homes, meetings new neighbors and helping him fill out the form correctly.  I never particularly thought of myself as a scatterbrain, but over the years I have learned that I should never be in charge of taking care of money.  I can't add, subtract or remember who gave me what.  And I'm the grown-up helper of Mr World Class Salesman; how did that happen?

For years, Littlest One has had to tag along on these popcorn expeditions and had been waiting until the day it was his turn.  So last Sunday, we set out to sell at our church and to relatives first.  It is a great way to work out the "bugs."  After all the parishioners good naturedly parted with their money, we set out for Ma's Little Red Barn in Perham, MN to hit up Aunt and Uncle.

"Ma" (known otherwise by close relatives) handed out nine dollars immediately to Youngest.  The five of us stood chatting a moment or two, until my newest Cub Scout asked, "Mom, can we have some ice cream?"

"Got any money?" asked Ma.

He nodded and began pulling out the nine dollars from his pocket.  Ma and Pa began to try not to laugh. 

"Ooooh," said Ma, seriously.  "That's selling fraud!" 

I caught my breath quickly as the look of horror at having done something wrong and fear crossed Little One's face.  His brother bent down and put his hands on his younger sibling's chest and back, then said, "No, Buddy.  We give the money to the pack.  It's not for us to use for ourselves."

There are times you wish you could forget a look of pain on your child's face, and this was my moment.  I quickly realized that all this time he thought he was getting the steady income.  I hadn't taken the time to explain why scouts sold, and now he made the connection quickly.  My mistake, but his fallen dream.

His uncle and aunt quickly rescued him by changing the subject and moments later we were all nestled back into the car, ready to go to Grandpa's.  But while that should have been the end of popcorn "moments," there was more to come.

I called home on Saturday in between running from the retreat I was working to the writer's conference. "Where are the boys?" I asked The Man Who Puts Up With Me. 

"Out selling popcorn!"

I felt terror creeping up inside me.  This was good and not good.  "Oh no!" I blurted out.

"What?" he said, somewhat annoyed.

"I have a hunch we'll be doing a lot of counting and figuring out orders when I get home," I said.

And so it was.  Checks were put in the wrong son's envelope, we had more money than we should have and one person never even got written down.  But we go the problems corrected, for now.  And I didn't forbid them to go out, just asked that we tally up every night.  I learned this from selling chocolate bars.  Let's just say I gave a lot to that cause.

Two more weeks of this.  Sigh.