Everything has a button, or what some call a switch. I am no exception. As a child I found that my switch was used often, when I would not listen or behave. My grand mother would pluck it from a Peach Tree or any available bush. Sometimes the switch would make me go fast and sometimes it would make me go slow. Sometimes it would make me run in circles and others just roll around on the floor. The switch was not pleasant, but when my switch was tripped, I would always have a reaction, as it corrected me for what I did wrong.