It was a beautiful spring day and two budding entrepreneurs, Henry and Jacob, had set up shop on Henry’s front step. They sat on the red bench: spread out in front of them on the yellow table were the wares they were offering for sale.

I was just returning home from running an errand when the two five-year-olds suggested I buy something from them.

“We have apples,” says Henry.

“And drawings for 25¢,” adds Jacob, “and chocolate for a penny.”

The boys were obviously anxious to make a sale. I am not sure how brisk the trade had been along our street that day but I promised to return shortly with some money. After all, chocolate for a penny sounded like a deal.

“Bring Norm, too,” Henry told me.

Norm, my husband, is a freelance photographer. Indeed, he was home from his assignment and had already promised Henry and Jacob he would be back to make a purchase. Norm and I agreed to go shopping as soon as he transmitted his photos.

It wasn’t long before the doorbell rang, however. It was Henry. “We’re almost out of stuff,” he told me.

So, off we went. Norm and I purchased a picture of dinosaurs, hand-coloured by Henry for 25¢ and a foil-covered chocolate loonie for 99¢. Maybe it was the rules of supply and demand, but the price of the chocolate coins had moved up significantly, proving once again that you should never put off a purchase when the price seems right.

After some discussion about the challenges and rewards of business — Jacob has amassed $100 from selling “stuff” to his family — Norm and I went back to our work.

We split the chocolate, hung Henry’s drawing on the fridge and were generally pleased to think we were keeping capitalism alive and fostering the next generation of entrepreneurs.

A few days later, we were talking to Henry’s mom, who had fallen into the role of market regulator. That day she was wearing her consumer protection hat and was a little concerned that we may have been taken by Henry and Jacob Enterprises.

“I noticed a certain discrepancy in the pricing,” she admitted.

But, as with most regulators, she had more than one market participant to monitor. Four-month-old Sidney was demanding his share of the attention inside and oversight of Henry and Jacob was sporadic.

We assured her we were fine. I didn’t mention the bait and switch tactic. After all, we hadn’t been strong-armed into buying the chocolate, although the two boys are delightfully cute. That could have clouded our judgment.

But we could have refused to pay 99¢ for the chocolate loonie. There is no doubt we had a certain amount of purchasing power. Customers were in relatively short supply. And we were two adults dealing with two five-year-old boys anxious to make a sale. I think, in the circumstances, we could be classified as sophisticated investors. No, we were willing participants in the transaction. We anted up the $1.24 and went home happy.

I sympathize with Henry’s mom — and with all regulators, for that matter. How do you protect consumers who seemingly don’t want to be protected, who make irrational purchases for reasons of their own? How do you oversee opportunistic entrepreneurs who themselves have an unsophisticated understanding of the impact of their actions on the marketplace?

It just proves — once again — that the marketplace runs on emotion, not common sense.

No, regulation is a tough job. Henry’s mom and her colleagues in the marketplace have my sympathies.

—TESSA WILMOTT, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF