The Button-Mashing Phase of Adulthood

Michelle Kuehner, ChFC®

Charlie, my two-year-old grandson, has recently discovered the magic of remote controls.

Not in a casual, “oh that’s neat” kind of way. No, this is full-on fascination. Buttons are pushed with purpose. Lights turning on and off? Absolute power move. Ceiling fan? Controlled chaos. If it has buttons, it’s getting pressed—repeatedly and with confidence.

It’s like watching someone realize they can influence the world with the press of a button—and frankly, he’s not wrong.

There’s something oddly relatable about it. Adults aren’t all that different when it comes to shiny, new, button-filled things. We just dress it up a little better.

Instead of remotes, it’s the latest phone, the newest app, the trending investment, the “next big thing” everyone suddenly has an opinion about. We convince ourselves we’re being strategic, informed, even cutting-edge.

But sometimes… we’re just pushing buttons. 

We love the idea of control. Of staying current. Of not missing out. There’s a certain rush that comes with trying something new, especially when everyone else seems to be doing the same thing.

And just like Charlie, sometimes we push a few buttons just to see what happens.

Now, again—no judgment. Curiosity is not the enemy. It’s how we learn, grow, and occasionally end up with five streaming services we barely use and can’t quite remember signing up for.

The problem isn’t the interest in new things. It’s when the excitement outweighs the intention.

Charlie doesn’t need a remote to live a fulfilling life. But you wouldn’t know that by watching him. In his mind, those buttons are everything.

We can fall into the same trap.

Chasing the next upgrade. The next opportunity. The next thing that promises to make life easier, better, faster, or more impressive. Something that feels like progress… even if it’s just movement.

Sometimes, those things do deliver, but other times… they’re just buttons.

Pressed out of habit, out of boredom or out of the subtle pressure to keep up with everyone else who seems to be pressing them too.

Meanwhile, the fundamentals—the boring, unflashy, quietly important stuff—don’t get nearly as much attention.

The things that actually keep everything running smoothly.

It’s not exciting to review what you already have. It’s not flashy to stick with a solid plan. It doesn’t come with a “wow factor” or a new box to unpackage. But it works.

More often than not, it works better than constantly chasing the next thing.

Charlie will eventually outgrow his remote obsession (or at least learn which buttons he’s actually allowed to touch). When he does, something else will grab his attention.

That’s just how it goes.

For the rest of us, the goal isn’t to avoid new things altogether. It’s to approach them with a little more intention and a little less “button mashing.”

Before jumping in, it’s worth asking: is this actually useful, or just interesting? Does it improve anything meaningful, or just give me something new to look at?

Because not everything that lights up is worth your attention.

Some buttons are better left unpressed.