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Once, when my brother was four or five and

my sister three or four, Dennis came running into the house. “What’s wrong?”

my mother asked. “Wanda hit me!” my brother, in tears, cried out. Not

wanting him to be unable to take care of himself, my mother told him to hit my

sister back if she did it again. A few minutes later, Wanda ran into the house,

howling at the top of her lungs. Dennis had found the largest stick - really a

tree branch - that he could pick up, then walked over to Wanda and swung it

at her as hard as he could, whopping her a good one.

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