I'm told headshots during snowball fights are verboten to minimize the chance of your child being hit in the head with chunks of ice and gravel.
That's the real "game" moids are playing - this benign seeming "kid" stuff always has a russian roulette thing built in, where it's about trust and fraternizing, while being able to punish the outsiders on the sly with "verboten" tricks like that, compare the "blutgrätsche" (Blood slide) in soccer - most of these sly moves are also named overly martial. Compare that to things like Tennis, where the loser is actually counted out for not keeping up, i.e. disturbing the harmony of the hither and tither. Soccer always ends with a goal, there is no reward for continued harmony. And if teams are equally skilled, when it's actually fair, like in professional soccer, the game basically slogs and stops working as such, it becomes boring and nothing happens, about which men then also complain - it's all about aggression and domination, nothing else.
Instructing your son to laugh with the aggressor who dominated him, when being hit, is actually a "bitch" move.
It's kinda weird how he nested that in his "instruction" on how to act tough when playing it. The men in my family just would've instructed you to not cry openly and retalliate immediatly. They also wouldn't have thrown in that weird conditional about not doing it in front of girls (that alone seems odd, but I've sperged enough) It's also weird that he, as his dad hit him in the face to begin with - is he not on his side? He has kinda failed at moiding, if you deconstruct it to that degree.
The "laugh with them" thing is very much what the desperate "class clown" does as his default mode of survival.
Correct moiding goes something like this: You retaliate worse, laugh at them like they did at you, then everybody has enough and laughs together while exchaning retarded exaggerations of the happenings.
When shit went to far, there's a bit of international crying over the graves of their fallen comrades in the normandy, before everyone gets drunk and proceeds to exchange braggdochio about the good old wartimes. Because
most moids don't actually learn, ever. Also note that there's never (or not many) such meetings between vietkong and americans. Because one side completely ruined the other, there's no mutual
culture fraternity and each side still accuses the other of foul play to this day. Kinda understandable when one side got mutant babies while the other was impaled and left to rot in murder holes - they didn't play the same game.
