Goodness knows my children are not perfect; there's rarely a week that goes by that one of them isn't being punished for something. However, twenty years in my chosen profession has shown me it could be a Whole. Lot. Worse. And if they (my children) only knew just how bad it can sometimes be, they would cut out some old yearbook pictures and be set for life...'cause I would be hard-pressed to ever punish them again for some low level infraction whilst looking upon the countenance of certain scholars. More likely, I would fall to my knees, kiss each and every toe on their grubby little feet and then take the whole family out for ice-cream.
"Mom, I just carved my name in the banister!" "That's great, son! Would you like whipped cream on your sundae?"