Diane put a jar on the kitchen table after her grandchildren began repeating the grown-ups’ bad words.
“One dollar for every swear word,” she announced. “We’ll use the money for a family treat.”
Her husband paid two dollars trying to open a pickle jar. Their teenage son paid three during a football game. By Saturday, the house had become wonderfully polite.
Then Grandpa arrived to help build the new flat-pack bookshelf. He had promised it would be standing before lunch.
Diane pointed to the jar. “Same rule for visitors.” “Fair enough,” he said.
He carried the long carton inside, set it on the floor, and saw the little packet of screws taped to the outside. He stood still for a moment, then reached into his coat pocket and placed a twenty-dollar bill beside the jar.
Diane smiled. “Grandpa, you haven’t said a word.”
“I know,” he replied. “That’s just for opening the box. I’ll pay for the instructions separately.”