About a year ago, W instituted what we call the "potch." It's a Yiddish word that means, basically, a small smack. In our world, it means a few smacks that I get every night at bedtime. It can be as few as one, delivered just to stay in the routine, or a few dozen. It's not a major spanking, and I rarely feel it for more than a few minutes afterward.
And the thing is, even though I thought I would need more than that–even though, perhaps at some times, I do need more than that–it works. It seems meaningless, and in the beginning, there was often a temptation to skip it, because, really, what difference would a few smacks on my bottom make in our dynamic?
But on nights when it's not wise or practical to do the potch (for instance, if my mother-in-law is visiting), our dynamic begins to get out of sync. (Mind you, that could also be due to the stress of having my mother-in-law visiting… but it also happens if we skip for other reasons.)