In the Vernacular

I was at the sink washing dishes when I heard a scuffle break out downstairs. I ignored it until Caleb started howling. I hastened pell-mell down to the basement wiping soapy hands on a dish towel. The ensuing conversation went something like this...

Me: What's going on down here!?!

Caleb: (Wailing and clutching his head) Nathan hocked me!

Me: Huh?

Caleb: (Still wailing, still clutching) Nathan hooooockckcked meeeee!!!

At this point, I look to Nathan for clarification. He stares back at me with his very large and very innocent chocolate eyes, wisely saying nothing. Unfortunately, he forgets to discard the plastic hockey stick he is holding over one shoulder. I begin to put the pieces together.

Me: Nathan, did you hock your brother?

Nathan: Yes. (Wailing stops. Both boys wait wide-eyed for the consequence.)

Me: Nathan, no more hocking your brother. Give me that stick. (He complies.) No more hitting, kicking, pinching, scratching, biting, or hocking each other before lunch. Do you understand?

Both boys: Yes.

They return to playing semi-civilly. I return to my dishes. Another word is added to our family dictionary.