PUBLISHER’S MESSAGE

The Cussing Jar

Sometimes you just have to lay down the law.

At least that is what I thought we were doing when we implemented a new parenting technique at our house recently. When we called the kids together for a family meeting to explain what was going on, there was a lot of concern and a lot of questions. Our kids had picked up a few bad words on the playground, and we needed to take immediate action. We told them that we had set up a mason jar in the kitchen where coins would be deposited when someone used “colorful language.”

The concept was pretty simple, really. Say a bad word, deposit a quarter in the jar. Our kids—ten, eight, and four years old—caught on quickly and all agreed that it would be a major bummer to have to spend their hard-earned dough this way, particularly since allowance is just a buck a week.

Things started off well and the empty mason jar looming in the corner proved to be a major deterrent. Finally, one day someone slipped up. I can’t remember who it was, but a deposit was made. The quarter’s distinctive ping rattling around the glass was like the shot heard around the world at our house. It didn’t happen very often, so I thought the whole thing was going pretty well… until the kids began to apply the rules to me.

Although we live in the Happiest Place on Earth, some days are happier than others. I can almost hear the old John Denver 8-track tape my parents used to play: Some days are diamonds, some days are stone. My kids shifted the balance of power on one of those days that the bespectacled country boy would have put under the column marked “stone.” Frustrated by something, I just couldn’t help myself. No sooner than the four-letter word had left my lips, I heard my daughter say, “Uh, dad, that was a bad word. You should have to put money in the jar.” I looked up to see her brothers nodding their heads in agreement. “What?!” I exclaimed in mocking disbelief, “that’s bull$*&#!” We all busted up in laughter. Seizing the moment, and hoping to turn the day into diamonds, I let a few more colorful words of protest fly, this time with a heavy dose of dramatic flair. My little stand-up comedy routine had set me back $1.75.

Recognizing that I was potentially a cash cow, the kids began watching my every move. The slip-ups were starting to take their toll, and I noticed that my behavior began to improve. I was tired of spending my money this way so I cleaned up my language and started toeing the line. But, it wasn’t until my kids had a fundraiser at their school that my karma came back to bite my dogma. Upon entering the “Penny Wars” competition, my daughter asked if she could donate the mason jar, which was now overflowing with coins.

On the last day of “Penny Wars” my daughter and her friends were in the library, each of them with their coins spread on the floor to get final counts. As the school’s PTA president made her way around the room to interview the students about how they raised the money, she stopped to talk with my daughter. “Oh, it’s from my dad. He had to put lots of money in the cussing jar.” Later that day, through a fit of laughter, the PTA president pulled my wife aside to relay the story. “But, don’t worry,” she assured, “I won’t publish it in the school newsletter.”

I would like to take this opportunity to say “thank you” to everyone who had a hand in creating this issue of SLO LIFE Magazine and, most of all to our advertisers and subscribers—we couldn’t do it without you.

Live the SLO Life!

Tom Franciskovich tom@slolifemagazine.com