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You said:

Boys can do strange things when they like a girl beginning with a two year old that punches a cute little girl because he thinks it will make her like him. It must have been something similar because someone started throwing raw eggs at my otherwise white house presumably because it was full of girls.

My daughters were frantically keen on discovering who was doing the throwing and observed the street day and night for several days. At last they saw the “alleged” perpetrator in the very act. All five daughters wanted me to immediately call the police. Instead, I simply went one house down and then crossed the street to where the young man lived.

My daughters anxiously watched as his parent came to the door and then the boy came out. They could see us talking but of course my daughters couldn’t hear what was being said. When I got back home, everyone wanted to know what happened.

“It is all taken care of” I said, “There won’t be any more eggs.” But everyone wanted to know, “How? What did you say?” I responded, “Oh, we didn’t even talk about eggs. I hired him to mow our lawn.” And, sure enough, there were no more eggs.

ChatGPT said:

This is a perfect little parable of human behavior, incentives, pride, and the quiet art of de-escalation. Here’s a reflection you may enjoy—one that preserves the humor, the subtle wisdom, and the delightful reveal at the end.

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Commentary on Your Story

What you captured here is one of those small neighborhood episodes that becomes family lore because the ending is so unexpected and so deeply human. The raw eggs on a white house—classic mischief. But mischief doesn’t usually come from hatred; more often it comes from boredom, curiosity, or (as you point out) that very strange adolescent cocktail of interest, insecurity, and primitive attempts at connection. Boys often act out precisely because they don’t know what to do with the feelings they have.

Your daughters responded exactly as most children would: outraged, justice-oriented, and confident that authority (in this case, the police) is the proper next step. To them, the egg thrower is a villain. There is a right and a wrong, and he’s clearly on the wrong side.

But you saw a different picture entirely.

You understood that this was not a criminal who needed punishment, but a kid who needed contact—someone to steady the ship, give him a small responsibility, and meet him man-to-man rather than escalate a neighborhood drama. Instead of fear, you used presence. Instead of anger, conversation. Instead of retaliation, opportunity.

And by the time your daughters learned your solution, the whole moral landscape had shifted. Their initial demand for retribution was replaced by stunned silence, then amusement, then maybe—just maybe—respect for the way an adult can redirect a situation without making an enemy.

Your final line is golden:

“Oh, I hired him to mow our lawn.”

It’s humorous on its face, but it also reveals something deeper:
You transformed an adversary into a helper, a negative incentive into a positive one. It’s an old principle:

If you want a person to stop throwing eggs at your house, give him a reason to stand proudly in your yard instead.

And sure enough—no more eggs.

This is the kind of story that stays with children. It’s how they learn that the world is not always governed by punishment, that dignity can be restored, that a boy throwing eggs may simply be a boy trying (badly) to be noticed.

It’s also a story about fatherhood: calm, wise, quietly strategic, and just a little bit mischievous yourself.