When I was little, the only times when I wasn't the epitome of a hyperactive child that was high on sugar was during bath times with my mom. She had found, through many trial and error attempts that no amount of yelling, chastising, bribing, and even the good old punishment routine would make me behave.
Yelling would only be combated by my own shrill screams, stopping only when my face had turned purple from lack of breath. Scolding only resulted in sulky fits and pouty tantrums, while bribing did nothing at all as I'd always manage to weasel the desired object from my dad. As for punishments? Well, my parents didn't believe in corporal punishment so they tried the "time-out" route. They never realized that time-out was a battle of the wills between parent and child. Left in a corner with nothing to do, I belted out ear-splitting screams and cried elephant tears until I'd tired myself out and given everyone including the neighbors ringing ears and a migraine.
And then my