Buying some boxing gloves

A friend of mine is one of 3 boys. He has warned me of the daily loaf of bread and gallon of milk I can expect. Immediately after the twins were born and we knew our life was following in his footsteps, he warned me that boys will beat on each other, no matter what my little peace- lovin, girly self thinks. He also told me his father used to give him and his brother each a pair of boxing gloves if they were fighting and tell them to go out in the back yard and settle it.

When he first told me this, I was mortified. What self-respecting parent would actually tell their children to go beat each other. Surely, this man was half off his rocker...

I can see it.

Seriously, they are only 6 and 3 1/2 years old, but I can see it. When the kids start yelling at each other, whining about whatever grave puzzle or bionicle injustice has just occurred, I have already tired of trying to help solve it. "Use your (damn!) words, not your hands/feet!" is a familiar mantra around here. And I am starting to sound like a broken record. I am realizing that I will have to say these words for the next 18 years (longer??), and I doubt it will be heard any better at age 13 than it is now. After the 3 of them were having fun sliding down their grandparents' half staircase in a sleeping bag, they were shocked to learn someone could get hurt during such an endeavor. After Max got smooshed by a flying Spencer, he decided the proper response was a knee-pile-driver to the young man's stomach. 

Good god....

Ok, I'm never really going to buy boxing gloves, but keeping this place from looking like an evenings entertainment in Vegas is going to be quite a battle...