Judah walks into the kitchen this morning, accompanied by distant wails from Jamie.
"Mama, Jamie doesn't like to play Slingshot..." he says, shaking his head mournfully.
"Oh really? Judah, did you shoot a rubber band at your baby brother?"
"Oh no! No, no, no. Tha's not how you play slingshot."
"Well, how do you play slingshot?" I walk into Jamie's room. He's sitting up in bed with a bright red welt on his forehead.
"You...you.... you jis frow stuff direckly at duh other person's forehead. Direckly." He pats his fist on his own forehead for emphasis.
"Judah! How many times did you throw toys at Jamie's head??"
"Oh... free... maybe four times?"
"Judah, you may not play Slingshot with Jamie."
"Ok, den. I'll jis play wif Daddy instead."