Are We Teaching Our Children to Choose... or to Agree?
What kids actually need when we ask them to decide.
My book But I’m Bored is available now...
I was at the airport a few years ago, getting flight snacks with my teenage daughter. As she went back and forth between airhead sour bites or peanut butter M&M’s, I saw something that immediately captured my attention.
A sandy-haired boy, maybe six, was standing in front of the candy shelf, a tall, twirly, rainbow lollipop in one hand, a brown, crinkly bag of M&Ms in the other. He was trapped deep in a moment of indecision. His whole body was in it, wiggling his hands, bouncing on his heels, genuinely torn in the way that only a six-year-old can be torn about candy.
His brother whined. His mom said hurry up. His dad said get the lollipop, it’ll last longer on the plane. And then his grandma did something. She bent down to his level, right there in the chaos, and said quietly: “I’m thinking about how it might feel when Alec is still eating his lollipop and your chocolate is already gone.” She told his mom to go ahead to the gate. She’d stay back. And then she just…waited. No rushing. No right answer telegraphed through her face. No helpful nudge toward the obvious choice.
She gave him the thing we almost never give kids in public: actual time to think. He chose the M&Ms. I don’t know if he regretted it somewhere over New Jersey. That’s not the point.
Here’s my confession: I would not have done what she did. Early on, when my kids were small, and I was newer to this and more anxious about doing it right, I would have been the one saying hurry up. Or worse, I would have done that thing where you ask a question, but your face has already answered it. “Which one do you want, bud? The lollipop might be better for the plane, though, right?” Technically a choice. Not actually a choice. Or, “Hurry up and choose, or I will choose for you.” Cue panic rising through their little bodies. I did that a lot. Offered the illusion of deciding while steering toward the outcome I’d already picked.
And honestly? That’s the worst option. It’s not faster. It’s not tidier. A kid who senses they’re being managed will tell you about it — loudly, in the middle of the airport.
The rest is for my paid subscribers:
Why the waiting feels so hard (it’s not a character flaw)
Three things that really help when you’re standing in the airport line, about to lose it
When you should absolutely just pick the candy
And the permission you probably came here for
If you’re not a paid subscriber yet, Something Playful is also waiting for you — my weekly series going one play material at a time. The Playdough Edit, The Board Game Edit, and Magnetic Tiles are up next: which brands are actually compatible, which ones aren’t worth the price, and how to set them up so kids use them independently at every age.