Lydia jumped through the doorway and landed next to me with a thud. I looked up to see her wobbling back and forth like an arrow stuck in the floor next to my bed.
“I decided how I’m going to make money!” she said proudly.
I ran a hand over my eyes and yawned. “How?”
“Well, you know how children take money with them to school? Like, milk money, for the vending machine?”
“They buy milk from a vending machine?”
She looked uncertain for a moment. This moment passed. “Yes!” she said confidently. “Exactly. A milk vending machine. At the school. But they probably don’t want to.”
“Okay…” my eyes narrowed. “So… what about this… milk money?”
Her eyes twinkled. “Well, when they go out to get on the bus in the morning, I can go out and take it from them!”
She saw my look of shocked disapproval and suddenly started spinning nervously. “I mean! Not just take it, but I could sell them things! I would set up a table and sell things at their bus stop.”
“Things? What things?”
It seemed she had not considered this. She tapped a finger to her lips three times and the word “Milk?” fell out.
“Milk?” I said back to her, uncertain.
“Yes. Milk. We have milk. They have milk money. Why not buy it from me?”
I gave her a hug, “You are the sweetest little bully in the world. Of course, you can sell milk to the neighbors.” But secretly I knew it didn’t matter because the bus was long gone every day when she got out of bed at 10am.