Dirt piles.

Robs and Erikboy found some dirt piles. They found some swords too, and friends - and then mixed them together. Squísh and I were watering the bushes in our front yard. (The sad little things were decimated by the heat wave.) We were about to go inside when I heard arguing. So Squísh and I paused. One of the boys on the dirt pile was visiting, and he was nine. (Rules sometimes don't have the same affect on visitors...) I debated with myself... hover craft? or attentive parent? I didn't want to be a hover-craft, but I didn't want my four-almost-five-year-old to have to take on a rules-don't-apply-nine-year-old. I compromised and pulled up a seat to listen. 

From the driveway I could tell the nine year old didn't like something Erikboy had been doing. The nine year old threw a dirt clod in his general direction. Erikboy returned a clod (in the general direction - of course.) The nine year old marched himself up the hill and into Erikboy's personal space. Erikboy stared. The nine year old started talking. Erikboy stared some more and then used his foam sword to move him out of his personal space. I have to admit I was impressed. (And glad it ended there.) I understand every single situation is different - and that most of them don't involve foam swords. But I was proud of Erikboy.

Later that evening I asked what happened. (I'd heard Robs' emphatic recount earlier .. and was curious to see what he'd say.) His answer was "Nothing." So I asked if there'd been any throwing rocks. "Oh yeah!" he said, "but I just dodged them. I'm really good at dodging things." And then we discussed how he's practically a ninja. I love being his mother.