Bud’s co-worker’s in-laws were spending the summer on a job in Alaska.  They’d arranged for Steve their son-in-law to sell their piano for them in their absence.  Steve recruited Bud and several others to help him load it.  My eight-year-old son, John, tagged along.  When the troop got to his inlaw’s house, Steve realized he’d forgotten his key, necessitating a climb through the window.

John watched open-mouthed as Steve wiggled through the kitchen window and opened the front door for the rest of the crew.  They made quick work of loading the piano into the truck.  Apparently, Bud hadn’t gotten around to explaining the plan to John.  As they struggled, John tugged on Bud’s coattail.  “Dad, where are the folks who own the house?”

“They are working in Alaska, son.”

“Well, why are we stealing their furniture?”