When we were kids, my brother would get mean when bored. Low-grade physical stuff, hard pinches, pulled hair, coming into my room to harass me and break toys, enough to cause pain without evidence if I were to complain. I asked my mom to intervene, she didn't want to deal with it, so she gave me the old phrase, "if you don't know what to do, spit in a shoe and do it again at half past two".

So I spat in my brothers shoe every time he messed with me. And for good measure, I spat in my mom's shoe too for letting him continue to abuse me.