“Dad, we’re starting a business, and we need your help.”
I woke up one Saturday to find Adam and Brandon making bracelets and necklaces out of tiny, colorful rubber bands. They named their business Adam and Brandon’s Rainbow Loom Jewelry.
Like any promising startup, they began with enthusiasm, a handmade sign and absolutely no operating capital.
Mom and I gave them a small business loan to buy supplies. Before handing over the money, we sat down and talked about how a business works. How much did each bracelet or necklace cost to make? What would they need to charge to earn back their expenses and still make a profit?
Math suddenly wasn’t just homework anymore. It was the difference between making money and accidentally paying people to take their bracelets. And they were paying attention.
They built inventory, organized their display and headed outside to sell from a folding table near the corner of our street. Seven customers stopped to buy. By the time the boys closed up shop, they had made enough to repay the loan, buy more loom bands and still have money left over as profit. Not bad for their first earnings report.
They were learning that making a sale requires real work. Someone has to create the jewelry, organize products, set prices and be ready to talk to customers. They were also learning to work together.
They love each other, but they’re still brothers. They don’t always agree on who should do what, which colors look best or how the money should be divided. A business partnership doesn’t eliminate sibling arguments. It just gives them new subjects to argue about.
Still, watching them figure it out has been great. They have to listen to each other, share responsibilities and recognize that the business works better when both contribute. Neither can walk away when something becomes frustrating, at least not without leaving his business partner sitting alone at a folding table with the money.
I own my own business. The boys have grown up watching me work. They hear phone calls, see me at the computer and know Dad sometimes has to finish something even when the workday should be over. I don’t know exactly what they understand about what I do, but their little jewelry company reminds me that they are always paying attention.
Sarah and I are supporting the business, but we’re not running it. We want them to experience the pride of creating something themselves and the responsibility that comes with it. If they spend all their profits, they won’t have money for more supplies. If they don’t make new inventory, they’ll have nothing to sell. If one brother does all the work, they’ll have to decide what “fair” actually means.
Their company may not become the next great American business empire. Its headquarters may never move beyond our kitchen table and the corner of our street. But they’ve already learned that an idea can become real when you work at it. And I’ve been reminded again that some of the best lessons begin by stepping back and letting them build something together, one tiny rubber band at a time.
