Wee Wisdom: Rules vs Doritos

While I was walking with my kids after school last week, Ella pulled out a Ziploc bag of Doritos. Neither Tanya nor I had packed it in her lunch, so I asked where she got them.

“A friend gave them to me,” Ella replied nonchalantly.

“Who?” Sophia asked. “We’re not allowed to share food. That kid is NOT a good rule-follower!”

It was interesting to observe my kids’ different perspectives on the issue. Ella didn’t seem bothered by scoring a tasty snack she doesn’t normally get at home, nor by her straight-laced sister’s reaction.

I understand why school rules prohibit sharing food, from general health liabilities to perpetuating social inequities. But did Ella’s second-degree snacking symbolize more than simply transgressing an institutional policy? If I allowed my 10-year-old to get away with breaking the rules, was I tacitly condoning a future life of crime?

In this case, I’m pretty sure no harm was done in the exchange of chips on the playground. In fact — for all I know — Ella (and her friend) could have developed valuable negotiation skills in the transaction. Maybe they balanced out the supply and demand curve of the Northern Colorado snack market or were making a concerted effort to reduce waste. Regardless of the details, everyone seemed to have come out ahead.

Regulations, while well-intentioned, sometimes serve more as symbolic barriers than practical ones. Yes, they help keep us safe and happy for the most part, but perhaps it’s the fear of punishment — not the actual rule — that contributes most to that outcome.

Once rules are set, we each follow them as we see fit. Some people have no problem breaking them, and even don’t mind getting caught once in a while. Others might be more inclined to fear the possible punishment. But Sophia, in reprimanding her older sister, demonstrated one of civilized society’s built-in safety valves: peer pressure.

Essentially, rules are only necessary if we plan on living amongst others. Each person can either follow along or stray at their peril. We all do the latter once in a while, and even get caught. Most of the time, though, our hiccups are benign, and we are left to deal with only ourselves. Punishment or not, our consciences generally direct us accordingly.

We continued our walk, and Ella crunched away, seemingly unperturbed by her sibling’s tongue-lashing. Then Sophia asked her big sister very politely, “Aren’t you going to share?”

After some thought, Ella handed over a few crumbled chips, and I could feel the tension building.

Clearly, the illegal nature of the Doritos combined with the entrance of a third party raised the situation’s intrigue. Sophia, I noted, didn’t seem bothered by the criminality of it all when she was licking seasoning off her fingers.

A couple of days later, I spotted Ella munching on a chocolate about an hour after school.

Before I had a chance to say anything, she blurted, “Don’t worry, Dad, I got it after the bell.”

Sophia didn’t say a word.

The Offending Snack