When it is convenient for him, apparently we share in this family.
I yelled down to The Husband, who was washing dishes, "I feel the need to call my brother and apologize."
A few minutes later Garrett was lying flat in the tub, belly down. Matthew climbed on top of his legs, also lying belly down, cackled, and bit Garrett in the butt. It wasn't vindictive. He wasn't mad. It was nothing more than a nibble, really.*
Which is pretty much how I remember it. I applied the rules to my little brother and, minutes if not hours later, he smiled and placed some form of retaliation upon me. Likely he did it with a smile because, as I said, he was pesky.
Garrett is the controlling brat factor (a.k.a. Me) and Matthew is the pesky little ankle--read:butt--biter (a.k.a. Jon).
Anyway, Pesky Jon left a comment a few days back asking to see pictures of The Rock Star with all of his "Hi. I'm a Boy and Therefore I Must Be Wounded At All Times" glory.
The first busted lip. He achieved this by losing his footing on our concrete steps.
I don't have a picture of the second busted lip which was accompanied by a bloody nose when he somehow redirected as he jumped--from a sitting position--off the counter and his face ricocheted off the floor.
The black eye and bruised cheek he got from somehow running into a chair at church. I wasn't there to witness this one so...the logistics are beyond me.
*Garrett actually laughed. Which was good if not slightly disturbing.