The cable box on the downstairs TV has ceased working three times. Three times a Comcast Cable Guy has visited our home to replace the cable running from the basement to the TV.
What I failed to mention to the Cable Guy is that the reason for their visits is because my son chews the cable.
Sorry, Comcast. My bad.
It's partially your fault, Comcast. You give us way too much cable. I have to tuck the excess behind the entertainment center and the couch. My son finds said cable and chews away. He bends it first for optimum chewing satisfaction.
Now, since my son is three, he should be taught right from wrong. Good from bad. This requires more than the statement, " No, David"
This requires the time-out.
I must say that the time-out has been effective. Yesterday David headed for the back side of the entertainment center. I told him, with my best MOM voice and use of his full name that, he knows he's not supposed to touch that cable. David quickly showed me the Lego that he retrieved from behind the TV.
He understands the time-out and the MOM voice. That's a good thing.