One morning, when my son was about 19 months, he saw me putting on a pale green face-mask. (Something I rarely do.)
“What ‘ou doin’?” he said.
“I’m putting on a face mask,” I replied.
“What it for?” he asked.
“It’s to make Mummy look more beautiful,” I told him.
He stood looking at me in that considering way that small children have, then said as gently as possible, “Well…it doesn’t.”
A fine is a tax for doing wrong. A tax is a fine for doing well.
Thought for the day
I lift up my eyes to the hills — where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.