Lemonade

For two days running, my daughter has practically tripped off the bus rushing to ask, "Did you buy lemonade at the store?". I notice my eyes begin to roll without official permission. I can't believe it. She can't remember how to subtract three from twelve, but she cannot forget that her mother hasn't bought lemonade yet and outside temperatures are soaring past fifty. How does a parent ever deal with disappointment of this magnitude? There's whining. And did I already mention there's whining? I remind her that nine year-olds are supposed to be over the whole whining thing. She flashes a fake grin, apologizes, then asks if she can make strawberry smoothies. "NO", I say. "And what about the cupcake mix, can you make cupcakes today?" "No". "Can you make them tonight?" Do I really have to say no again? Well of course I do, because if I don't answer her, this could go on FOREVER. I try to stay calm, refocus her or me or both of us. Impossible.