There was once a very old man. His eyes were dim, his hearing was dull, and his knees trembled. When he sat at the table, he could hardly hold his spoon. He often spilled broth on the tablecloth or let it run from his mouth.
His son and daughter-in-law were disgusted by this. Eventually, they made the old grandfather sit in the corner behind the stove. They gave him his food in an earthenware bowl, and not even enough of it. He would look toward the family table with tears in his eyes.
Once, his trembling hands could not hold the bowl, and it fell to the ground and broke. The young wife scolded him, but he only sighed in silence. Then they bought him a cheap wooden bowl to eat from.
One day, as they were sitting thus, their four-year-old grandson began gathering bits of wood on the floor.
"What are you doing there?" asked the father.
"I am making a little trough," answered the child, "for father and mother to eat out of when I am big."
The man and his wife looked at each other for a moment, and then began to cry. They immediately brought the old grandfather back to the table. From then on, he always ate with them, and they said nothing even if he spilled a little.