“Dammit another one?” Chenoa muttered to herself emptying a pocket full of rubber mulch her son brought home from school. Why did he have to store it by the handful?

“Malachi” she caught him by the arm as he sprinted past with a nerf gun, and showed him the handful of black rubber shards. “What did we say about this?”

A nerf bullet shot Malachi in the face and he let out a cry of either pain or...