Toby slid off the wooden window bench and knelt on the floor to gather his scattered colored pencils from near the leg of the heavy mahogany dining table.

Chloe spun around from the side table, her face flushing red with sudden irritation as she looked down at my seven-year-old son on the carpet.

“Get out of my way,” Chloe whined defensively.

“I’m just getting my blue pencil,” Toby said, reaching his right hand under the edge of the carved table skirt.

Chloe stepped forward and grabbed seven-year-old Toby by his upper left arm with both hands.

She yanked his small body up and flung him sideways with full force straight into the sharp mahogany edge of the dining table.