It's kind of about fitness, if you squint a little, or if you run away from the comb fast enough

As a kid, I was a pretty serious Goody Two-Shoes.  I believed in following the rules and doing my homework and not leafing through the Candyland cards to find the one that got you to the end quickest.  It worked.  I am a reasonably successful adult with a sense of responsibility.

I did, however, once steal a fire engine, according to my mother.  I was maybe two or three, so I don’t actually remember the crime in question.  A kid in our neighborhood had one, the kind you could sit in and pedal.  The lust in my heart apparently led me to pedal it home and tantrum because I eventually had to give it back.  The punishment for this crime?  I got my own fire engine.

A few years later, there was a new chapter in the epic battle between my mom and me over my hair.  We were running late for school.  I hate to be late (see previous declaration about Goody Two-Shoes, who is clearly always prompt.).  I explained to my mother that I could in fact go to school without combing my hair, but I could not go without putting on my shoes.  This logic did not cut it with my mom.  Then again, she would go out naked before she would go out without lipstick, so I expect she reasons from different premises.  (I eventually learned to go to school both with combed hair and shoes.)  Discovering the difference between actual rules and preferences or norms can be a painful process, particularly if there are tangles involved.

The point is that rules are useful, but breaking the rules can also be useful.  We cannot be rigid and still grow.  What rules are keeping us from blooming?  Are they really rules?  What are we so passionate about that we are willing to make off with it from the neighbor’s driveway?  How can we get our own?