As a kid, I loved having options.
Most mornings I would wake up, stand in front of my closet, and throw on whatever outfit spoke to me.
I’d head downstairs and my mom would ask “what would you like for breakfast this morning Heath Beath?”
Squirming my way up onto a stool, I’d pleasantly muse over a few of my favorites: Bagel with cream cheese…mini waffles with butter…cereal and milk.
Carb with dairy, carb with dairy, or…carb with dairy.
(Obviously my two preferred food groups, which I’ll be forever in the gym fighting against).
Not much rhyme or reason past “I feel like choosing this” went into my decision, but my day just seemed to start off best with a sense of freedom in my routine.
As it goes with most kids, a perceived abundance of choice made me quite happy, and a lack of it…well let’s just say hell hath no fury that compares. (Big Fisch would probably tell you I haven’t changed one bit in that regard.)
Back then, options felt like luxuries, probably because as a child there were far less of them. But if only we had known that all too soon we’d be flooded with more decisions then at times we felt like we could handle, perhaps we would have been a bit less eager to grow up and take on a whole lot more responsibility.…