I was halfway through a meeting with a photocopy salesman, when he suddenly mentioned his wife and children, and how content and happy he was.
I was puzzled, but let him continue. It was only when I glanced down that I understood his reason for imparting this personal information. The table leg against which I had been rubbing my itchy foot wasn’t a table leg at all.
When we finished a personality assessment at work, I asked my friend Dan if he would share the results with his wife.
"That would require me to go home and say, ‘Hi, honey. I just paid someone $400 to tell me what’s wrong with me,’" he said.
"What's wrong with that?" I asked.
"Well, based on that, and considering we’ve been married 23 years, she’d probably hand me a bill for $798,000."
My older son loves school, but his younger brother absolutely hates it. One weekend he cried and fretted and tried every excuse not to go back on Monday. Sunday morning on the way home from church, the crying and whining built to a crescendo.
At the end of my rope, I finally stopped the car and explained, "Honey, it’s a law. If you don’t go to school, they’ll put Mommy in jail."
He looked at me, thought a moment, then asked, "How long would you have to stay?"