About three weeks ago, my seven-year-old daughter, Lexi, and in a fit of boredom, asked her mother if she could set up a lemonade stand at the front of our house.

Lexi and her brother attempted to peddle cold drinks earlier this summer (I think it was just ice water), but the results weren’t good. I think they had both marketing and product problems that mid-June day.

But it was now very evident that my little girl had been doing some serious thinking between her product roll-outs. From concept to product to marketing, she now knew exactly how her business should operate. She had apparently analyzed each and every process, policy, and product feature and it was now quite clear to me that she had learned much from her earlier mistakes.

Her cousin Josh (also age seven) happened to be at our house that day. So were Josh’s brother and sister (ages twelve and fourteen, respectively). But just like my son, they had little stomach for sweltering in the 90+ degree heat that day, flagging down the residents of, and visitors to, our neighborhood. But Lex and Josh were determined to earn some spending cash and so they dug out an old desk, an umbrella, and a couple of fold-out chairs and set up their storefront at the end of our driveway.

Lex and Josh concocted their own lemonade mix. Their final product was sweet, but not too sweet. It had great color; not too orange, not too yellow. And it presented well. For example, they learned early on how to use generous amounts of ice, making certain that the the ice was fully visible in its clear glass pitcher. They also somehow realized that the pitcher itself must “sweat”. “Very smart”, I thought to myself, “It actually looks like a TV commercial”.

Around 3:00, and just as the initial run of sales was beginning to lag, Lex came up with the idea of broadening out her product line. So, she ordered Josh to “hold the fort” (in the process leaving him enough money to make change, but by no means enough to start a competitive business), while she ran back inside the house to break out the cookie dough. Had my wife not (physically) grabbed her, I’m sure that she would have made some kind of chocolate chip cookies all by herself.

Fortunately, and preserving domestic tranquility, Karen intervened.

The cookies were delicious and the signage promoting those cookies was even better. Their first sign (which went up around 3 PM) said, “Coming Soon --- Delicious Chocolate Chip Cookies!” (The sign itself had maybe three or four typos. Primarily misspelled words, Lexi's mother was wise enough to suppress her natural desire to correct the copy.) The next sign, the sign that actually accompanied the product roll-out, said, “Home-Made Cookies,” alongside the price.

At exactly 4:00 the first batch of cookies appeared. Piping hot and fly-proof, my young entrepreneur had priced them at “three for $1.80.” You're right if you’ve already guessed that this particular price point was designed specifically to elicit the phrase, “Keep the change, hun.”

And keep it she did. By 8:30 that evening, Lex and Josh counted out some $93.00 in cash, “plus twenty dimes.” But it was not enough. Even though Josh was exhausted to the point where he literally could not get up out the chair for the last few customers, Lexi insisted on driving on past the century mark.

And did she ever. By the time her business was shut down by higher authorities, my daughter and her cousin had earned the sweet sum of $107.00 (plus those twenty dimes).

I’ve been proud of my kids since the beginning. Sometimes for the strangest of reasons. If you’re a parent, you know what I’m saying here.

But this day really stood out. My daughter had become a true entrepreneur!

Now, here’s the best part. Last weekend, Lexi decided to take her mother “clothes shopping” (her phrase, not mine). When Karen suggested that she bring along her own money (Lex is famous for going “over-budget” when it comes to wardrobe), she protested, “OK, but I want to use my PapPap money, not my “real money.”

Her real money. This, of course, is the money that she and Josh earned that sweltering August day. That money is clearly sacred. Because she paid for it with her own sweat. I suspect she’ll still have it the day she heads off to college.

The point, of course, is obvious. Lexi respects the cash that she earned. I often say that, "I personally know every single dollar that I control." And I do. I know how very hard I worked for these dollars and when someone asks me to spend them or worse, give them (as in angel money), it's very personal.

The cash that was merely given to my daughter had far less significance than the cash that she earned, dollar by dollar, that day.

The next time our government gives a house or any other material good to one of its citizens, stop and think about just how much respect that house or material good will be afforded by its recipient.

That hot August day, my young daughter proved to me that youthful entrepreneurism is alive and well. Our kids are not afraid to work hard, regardless of their background or upbringing.

But we must also be very wary of a government that would, and oftentimes without even understanding the consequences, "take care of" its citizens by giving them things that could so readily instead be earned. When you give something to someone, they do not appreciate it and they do not respect it. And in point of fact, many studies have shown that the recipients of the kinds of largess I am describing here, soon develop enmity for the granting organization or individual. After all, it is not much unlike living in a gilded cage.

Think of the trillions of dollars our government has spent over the years, "buying affection" of third-world people. Oftentimes, these are the same people who then turn around and try to destroy our civilization and its citizens.

We must therefore be very cautious. We must recognize and appreciate the unintended consequences of "helping" others. I say instead, give them only the education and encouragement to help themselves.

And then they will.