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Let me explain. I was a carpenter for 20 years, a trade that enriched my vocabulary with earthy and useful words. When, for instance, my computer goes down and dumps a thousand precious words into cyberspace, I don't say "oops." But having a child is like raising a tape recorder that's always running. So putting a bounty on bad words seemed like a good idea at the time, a way to clear up our verbal environment and, it turns out, to teach Ren the (cash) value of paying attention to what we say.

We should really have collected wood last summer. Unfortunately, wood cutting is prohibited during the hot days of fire season. How the heck, I complain to Joy, can we get dry firewood if we can only cut it when it's wet?

"It's a conundrum, all right," my wife says philosophically. I start to explain that a conundrum is a riddle whose answer is a pun, but then the chewing gum slides behind a molar and I chew the side of my tongue with a crisp crunching sound. "Arooo!"

"What's wrong?" Joy asks. I eject the gum wad and some pink spit. "Ptha. Bip my thung. $@#*!"

"Twenty-five more cents," Ren calls.

Joy explains that Daddy won't require a running tally at the moment, but she can submit a bill tonight. Now I really start yanking on the chainsaw rope, my lips barely moving as I trace its ancestry in a mentally screamed tirade whose cleanest word is "filthy." No good. No luck. No spark.

We decide to bag the whole expedition and go home, and that's when the truck joins the chain saw in an internal combustion strike. It won't start, either — darn points, no doubt. After muttering a few disappointed adjectives over it, we lock the useless chain saw in the useless pickup and start to hike downhill. It's a long way back through some pretty country. When Ren's little legs get tired, I carry her the last mile on piggyback.

We make it home by twilight, turn on all the electric heaters and have supper. "All right, bedtime for garbonzo," Joy tells Ren and we go upstairs to tuck her in. Kiss goodnight, turn off the light.

"Today was fun," Ren mumbles, drifting off to sleep. "Oh, by the way, Dad owes me three dollars now. And 50 cents."

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