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Baxter's mother was obviously disgruntled by her son's attack, but his father was all too pleased. When Baxter approached his father with a big silly grin on his face, his father clapped him on the shoulder.
"hey, that was some nice throwing ya did there, son," he said messing his sons' hair.
"Don't encourage him, you a*****e!" his mother screamed,"he's just gonna go around doing it all the more, and I'm not cleaning your blood from the carpet!"
"Fine, fine, fine. Bax, You do realize what was wrong about what you did and how you acted, right?"
"Um,.."
"Come on now Bax, what's the golden rule?"
"To, uh,.."
"If you can throw a hit, you can damn sure take one."
Baxter's eyes widened in horror, as his father's huge hand palmed his head. He tried to run but was locked in his fathers grasp. Baxter's face went flying into a wall, ricocheting his body to the floor.
"Now, get up. We're gonna see how good of an arm you've got. We're gonna play some football. Tackle."
"I'm not cleaning up his blood either!"