Dear Gus & Magnus,
Yiayia & Errol joined us this morning for the Midland Hills Fourth of July parade. It was hot. Then we gathered up and went to The Compound. We had another kiddie pool extravaganza. Your generation rode lots of bikes and scooters and big wheels. The pickleball tournament got rained out after the first couple of rounds, just as Cate and I were finding our momentum and planning to come up through the consolation bracket to get our revenge against Will and Chris, who beat us in the first round 11-9.
Possibly the best part of the day, though, was John showing up with a black eye and stitches just below his lip. I had no idea how he got the damage, but as we settled in to hear the story, I did not anticipate that he earned it on the golf course after he picked up some dude's golf bag and toss it on the ground, then he got clocked. There was some build-up, obviously, but John is the one who crossed the line when he touched someone else's property. Will was there to help break it up. (Bone went as an emissary to the other group's friends, who were in front of them.) Will said that even after John got blindsided with two punches from a younger, more athletic dude, by the time they were getting off the ground, John had the guy in a headlock.
I've never been in a fistfight, but I have no desire to. As things continued to escalate, John should have called the pro shop to report the behavior that lead up to the fight instead of touching the guy's property. I steer Gus away from "telling on" someone as much as I can right now, but when things continue to escalate and someone is clearly in the wrong, there is zero shame in telling on someone. There is an art to that, though. You don't want to get a reputation for being a tattletale. Luckily, your father is someone skilled in the telling arts. As you two get older, I shall teach you the ways. It's all about timing, framing, and removing your emotions from the situation.
Dad.
Beebe, Arkansas. 7.4.2024 - 1.24pm.