The Power of the Third Option (Brought to You by Oatmeal and a 4-Year-Old)
There are certain moments in parenthood that force you to stop mid-sentence and ask yourself, “Wait… did that just happen?” Moments that blur the line between feeling proud and being ever-so-slightly exasperated. This morning was exactly one of those moments—one of those everyday parenting surprises that somehow sticks with you.
It all started, as it usually does, at the crack of dawn. Or before. Gemma, my 4-year-old early riser, was up and at it by 5 a.m. sharp. I swear she has some kind of internal rooster that crows regardless of holidays, weekends, or how desperately her parents want to sleep in. Between 5 and 6, we usually let her roam the house a bit—play with her toys, ask existential questions, or host imaginary tea parties with stuffed animals and invisible guests. These quiet early morning rituals have become part of our gentle family routine.
But come 6 a.m., the structure kicks in. That’s when I try to gently nudge her toward getting ready for the day. My go-to parenting hack is offering two options—it’s a trick we parents like to think gives toddlers a sense of control while still moving things along. So this morning, in my calm, pre-coffee voice, I said, “Gemma, you can either take a shower or a bath. Your choice.”She looked at me with that twinkle in her eye—the kind that tells you something unexpected is about to happen. Without missing a beat, she replied, “I have a third option. I can go downstairs and have oatmeal first.”
Excuse me, what now?
For a solid five seconds, I stood there, blinking. Speechless. Which, if you know me, is rare. I mean… she wasn’t wrong. That was technically a third option. But my brain, still booting up for the day, didn’t know whether to be impressed or mildly annoyed. Mostly, I was stunned. Because in that moment, I realized something big: at just 4 years old, my daughter already understands that just because you're given two choices doesn’t mean those are the only ones available. It was a subtle but powerful reminder of child-led thinking and independent reasoning—values we try to encourage even in our simplest morning routines.
Talk about a plot twist.
I tried to gently steer her back to the bath/shower binary. “Yes, sweetie, oatmeal is another option, but mommy would really like it if you washed up first and then had breakfast.”
And that’s when she hit me with the follow-up question. The dreaded, unavoidable, deeply philosophical: “Why?”
Now usually I have a whole library of reasons ready to go for this phase of life we’re in—the Why Phase. I try my best to be patient, to explain, to foster curiosity and empathy. But this time? I had nothing. Zero. Zilch. There was no logical reason she couldn’t eat her oatmeal first. The order didn’t really matter. I was clinging to routine, not necessity.
And so, I surrendered to the oatmeal.
As she marched proudly downstairs, declaring it “Oatmeal First Day,” I found myself smiling. Not just because I could stall the bath battle another half hour, but because something about that moment stuck with me. It was one of those tiny parenting wins that feels deeper than it looks. Something about flexibility, awareness, and letting go.
How often do we forget about the third option? As adults, we’re conditioned to choose between this or that. We pick sides, stick to routines, and cling to structure—especially in parenting, where routine often feels like the only thing standing between us and total chaos. But what if, every once in a while, we asked ourselves the same question Gemma did? Is there another way?
Sometimes, the third option is the one that frees us. It’s the one that makes room for flexibility, for listening, for creativity. It might not be the plan you mapped out the night before, but it just might be the one that brings a little more joy—and a little less resistance. That’s something every parent, every family, can relate to.
So today, thanks to a bowl of oatmeal and a four-year-old with strong negotiation skills, I’m giving myself permission to let go of the either/or thinking. And I’m inviting you to do the same.
Whether you’re a parent, a partner, or just someone trying to make it to Friday—remember this: there’s always a third option. It might be unplanned. It might be messy. But it might also be exactly what you needed all along.
“Between black and white, there’s always a shade of oatmeal.” — Probably Gemma, age 4
Love, Gemma and Jules’s mom