Pink Ice Cream

My daughter doesn’t have to think very long when she goes into an ice cream shop.

“Pink” she shouts out, pointing to whatever is pink.

Doesn’t matter if it’s strawberry or raspberry or cotton candy. She digs in and eats it, gleefully.

Meanwhile, my adult mind has to know every flavor, my pallet has to sample the new ones, my legs have to walk me down past all the little rectangle signs before I make my decision.

This can be a burden: picking an ice cream flavor, like choosing a font or picking a salad dressing. I take my time.

I’m thorough. Or, if you’re the guy standing behind me, slow.

I think it’s healthy to embrace every single decision you come across, to love opportunities like cats that come up and brush past your leg. That’s why I pause every time I’m asked a question. I’ve got to pet the cat. Sorry, Guy-Behind-Me.

That said, all decisions are not created equal. Some decisions feel heavy, pregnant with other decisions. They can slow you down, paralyze you with their bloat in your lap. All of a sudden you’re not doing anything. You’re going hungry, while your options melt away.

When this happens, it’s often a better idea to take the route of a 5-year-old (instead of the advice of a career counselor).

Toss out your decision-making matrix. Choose the pink ice cream. And start eating.