Beernut often seems to suffer from what I like to thing of as the "droppsies." No matter what is in his hands...it will end up on the floor. Like the remote. The remote must end up on the floor a minimum of a dozen times a day (I am not exaggerating!). Of course, this might explain why the remote hasn't been operating at its usual level of efficiency of late.
This morning, after the remote had landed on our nicked-up hardwood floors for the 9th or 10th time today, I took away Beernut's remote privilege. Not five minutes later, I heard the channel being changed and could actually feel the steam streaming out of my ears.
However, when I reached the family room, the remote was exactly where I had left it. "Look Mom! I figured out how to change the channels just by pressing the buttons on the TiVo."
Heck, I don't even know how to do that. So while it was a wasted punishment, at least I will still be able to watch TV when (and it is when, not if) the remote ceases to work.
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I don't think it was pointless. No one wants to change channels by hand.
I have been thinking of the difference between consequences and punishments. I noticed about two decades ago that the new-fangled types of parents decided to use the words interchangably. They aren't.
Take this example: If you fall out of a tree and break your arm, that is not a punishment. It's a consequence. If you push someone out of a tree and they break an arm, you can be arrested for assault. Punishment.
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