Every morning my young children choose their own outfits. They pretty much get to wear whatever they want.
I might suggest something with short sleeves on a sunny day or something made of wool when it’s 11 degrees outside in the middle of February, but other than that I never really tell them, “No, you can’t wear that.”
On the other hand, having so many options increases the likelihood of making a bad decision. We simply aren’t meant to have an infinity of choices. We aren’t that wise.
It’s not because they run the show. It’s not because they have the finest taste in clothing either. It’s because they can’t really make any bad choices.
You see, there are only good choices in their closets.
Crocs-free zone
There are no graphic T-shirts with stupid logos, no Crocs, no lime green sweatpants, and no hoodies with dinosaur plates running along the back.
Make no mistake, if we had all those things in the closet, they would probably choose that kind of stuff. But we don’t. And so they don’t.
Take our son’s closet: It is full of button-ups and polo shirts. Oxford cloth, flannel, poplin, seersucker, cotton pique. His dresser is full of blue jeans, khakis, and chino shorts. There are also, of course, cotton and wool sweaters on the shelves as well. Cream, brown, and navy.
Our daughter’s closet is full of dresses. Thin, flowery ones for summer. Thicker plaids for the winter. Plain, practical cotton maxi dresses for everyday life. Leggings for when it’s cold. Cardigans as well. Cable knit in navy and gray.
Because we’ve left them with only good options, we’re free to let the kids choose their clothes, knowing they’ll always look just fine.
Loving limitations
This has an obvious practical purpose. We want our kids to look decent and don’t want to get involved in an endless back-and-forth every single day, litigating why they can or can’t wear the cartoon sweatshirt. But it’s also about giving them agency within reason. They have freedom and choice within a narrow framework set by us.
We also have our selfish reasons. We want to like how our kids look, and to be honest, it’s more pleasant looking at nice clothes. I would rather look at a plaid shirt than a stupid cartoon. Wouldn’t you?
There’s a bigger lesson here too. It’s about the need for limitations, guardrails, and choices within reasonable parameters. Any parent knows that kids need rules. Every parent is different. Some are more permissive than others, but no mother or father lets their kids do whatever they want whenever they want. Children need to be guided; setting them loose with a “good luck” and a shrug doesn’t cut it.
The metaphor extends to society as a whole. What happens when we have ultimate choice? What do we do when we have no limits? When everything is on the table and there is nothing holding us back?
Option overwhelm
Decision paralysis is, of course, a thing. People stand in front of the options set before them, and they freeze. They don’t know what to do. They don’t know what school to choose, what job to take, what girl they should ask out, or what kind of man they should marry. When people are bombarded with the feeling that they have every possible option on earth, they often end up choosing nothing at all because it’s all just too overwhelming.
On the other hand, having so many options increases the likelihood of making a bad decision. We simply aren’t meant to have an infinity of choices. We aren’t that wise. We have free will, but we don’t manage it so well. We can’t really control ourselves that much. We aren’t meant to be that free. We need limitations if we want to stay on the right track.
God and guardrails
Ever since having kids, I have been ruminating on the fact that though the distance between myself and my children is so great, we are all, in some way, still (God’s) children. Knowing this isn’t an excuse to be an idiot. It’s not an abdication of responsibility. It’s an acknowledgment that we are just not as smart as we think we are. We are not that great.
Let loose in a department store-size closet, we choose the lime green sweatpants. Without guardrails, we drive the car over a cliff. It’s why we have laws, it’s why we have religion, it’s why we have God.
We are not Him; we are foolish human beings. We need help doing the right thing. We can’t figure it out on our own. It’s true for 5-year olds getting dressed in the morning, and it’s true for us former 5-year-olds, adults trying to do what’s right in a messy world.
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