One recent afternoon, not five minutes after the children toddled outside to play, our daughter (the Girl) stumbled back into the house holding her eye and wailing. "He hit me in the eye!" she sobbed. "With his plastic bat!" He is her little brother. The lovely and talented wife checked the damage and asked if it was an accident. "He did it on purpose!" After determining that the injury was superficial, she called the Boy in to hear his side. "OK, Mom," he said and began trotting back to the house.

Meanwhile, she asked the Girl for more information. What happened? How? Why? She replied, "I was playing and I told him to hit me and before--".

"Wait. You told him to hit you?"

"Yeah, but before--"

"On purpose? You told him to hit you on purpose?"

"Yeah, but before I could tell him I was just joking, he hit me."

At precisely this moment the Boy walked in and, being the rambling truth-machine he is, confessed instantly and proudly, "I hit her on purpose, Mom."

She looked at them both for just a moment and then told the Boy to go back outside and play. She told our daughter not to tell people to hit her and then she sent her back outside to play, too, hopefully a little wiser. Good grief. The only people who need rules like that are folks with severe brain damage and children.