I am proud to say I was born in this era of unsupervised play (1974) and it served me well.
When I was eight years old my older brother suckered me into playing “I Bet I can knock you off your bike with this golf ball and 9 iron!”
I will save you the suspense.
He knocked me off that bike with that golf ball and 9 iron (while peddling really fast!) from an amazing distance of over 115 yards (my father paced it off and recorded it in our Family Records book.)
My older brother always had an uncanny ability to hit moving targets with a golf ball and club!
Did it hurt? Can’t remember really. I know I got three stiches from it and still have the scar on my head.
Point being, this was part and parcel of my childhood and it served me well.
Nowadays if this happened the child would be banned from riding his bike, the offending brother put in reform school and both kids would have to have counseling for the rest of their lives because of the “childhood trauma.”
If you don’t want the world to continue going to shit, STOP raising Pussies.
