This is the scene I see as I am sitting in the family room. The side door opens. #2 has #4 slung over his shoulder like a sack of wheat. #4 is squawking and protesting the entire way. #1 is following them and has blood running all the way from the top of his head, in between his eyes, down his nose and dripping off his chin.
I hung up on my friend then.
#4 decided to pitch rocks at his older brother and got a bulls-eye. Both of them right on the forehead and one sharp enough to make a dent and a good gash. I had to cut his hair and in his normal boy "don't care what I look like very much" attitude said, "If you shave it, just get me a couple hats. I don't care about a scar. It doesn't hurt. Can I just go back outside and play with Tommy?"