Kids are supposed to play in DIRT, and SAND. When they come home from school their little socks are supposed to be so damned dirty that bleach is required. Every so often, kids have little arguments, and inflict nose bleeds upon each other.
Hell, first damned rattlesnake I ever killed only happened because the dumb snake struck at the spokes of my Schwinn, but I rode around town with that snake around my neck, just like it was a lion I’d killed with a spear. Next snake I went after was on purpose!
Kids are the reason we go on, best raise them to survive after you are gone.
Reality is!
The job and responsibility has fallen to me to insure that my grandchildren eat the prerequisite pound of dirt and get properly exposed to second-hand smoke and firearms.
I take this responsibility seriously.
The knees in my school pants lasted about half a day on average. Holes, grass stains, etc..