A short tale by Michael T George, from MTG Media…

My late father was born in 1925.  He told me a story of growing up in the small town of North Star, Ohio.  His great uncles were carpenters.  As a young boy, he wanted to hang out in their workshop–the last place you would want an energetic six year old to be.

To keep him out of trouble, one uncle once gave him a nail to hold in each hand, and told him to wait for them to ask for it back.  Of course, what kind of trouble can a kid get into when he is holding something in each hand?  So, after a few minutes, Dad would get bored, put the nails down and go play somewhere else. 

Mission accomplished!