People sometimes ask me for rules about writing and I claim I have none. Well, I don’t. But someone in my house does.
Last year, when Lydia was in fifth grade, she came home with an index card she had filled out at school.
In 20 syllables, only three more than a haiku, she elegantly and authoritatively states what is to be done.
UPDATE: As Lydia notes in the comments below, the index card was a fourth grade project, not a fifth grade one. Senior moment?