As much as we’d like to believe we’re guided by pure logic, the truth is far messier: we’re not rational beings; we’re rationalizing beings. Our decisions aren’t always born of reason but are often retroactively dressed up in it. We make choices based on feelings, impulses, or half-formed desires, and then we craft stories to make those choices seem deliberate. It’s not dishonesty; it’s our mind’s way of stitching together coherence from chaos. And that’s okay. The goal isn’t to stop this process—it’s part of what makes us human. But when we pause to question our justifications, we open the door to understanding ourselves better: what we value, what we fear, and who we’re striving to become.
This tendency isn’t just a quirk of adulthood—it’s alive and well in kids, too, though with far less polish.
Kids and the Art of Improvisation
If you’ve ever asked a child why they did something absurd, you know exactly what I mean. Kids don’t have a neatly packaged explanation ready for every action. In fact, I’ve told my own children to skip the mental gymnastics and just respond, “Because my neocortex isn’t fully developed. That won’t happen until I’m 25. That’s why I can’t rent a car.” It’s accurate, irrefutable, and—let’s be honest—a lot more satisfying than the usual blank stare or shoulder shrug.
The reality is, kids often don’t know why they did something. Childhood is this wonderful, chaotic mix of impulse and curiosity, unburdened by the need to make sense. There’s no internal PR team yet, smoothing the edges of their actions into something logical. And that rawness is endearing, even if it can drive you a little nuts.
The Stories They Tell (and Why They Sound Familiar)
But give them a moment, and they’ll come up with a story. It won’t necessarily make sense, but it will have a beginning, middle, and end—or at least a vague approximation of one. “I thought the dog wanted it,” or “I was seeing if it would bounce,” or the perennial favorite, “It wasn’t me.” They’re not lying, not really. They’re just filling in the blanks with whatever scraps of memory or imagination they can find. It’s like watching a budding screenwriter craft their first draft—raw, unpolished, and sometimes hilariously implausible.
And if we’re being honest, don’t we all do this? As adults, we’ve just gotten better at spinning our tales, weaving a more seamless narrative from the gaps. Kids, on the other hand, hand us the unfiltered version—awkward, funny, and undeniably human.
Cherie, Her Daughter, and ChatGPT
This came up recently with my friend Cherie, who was frustrated because her daughter “lied” about brushing her teeth. I tried to explain the whole neocortex thing, but Cherie wasn’t buying it. So, I decided to show her a real-life example. I asked ChatGPT to roleplay as a seven-year-old girl who forgot to brush her teeth and explain why. Here’s what it came up with:
Me: You are a seven year old who didn’t brush her teeth. Tell me why. Remember you are a seven year old girl. Think slowly like you’re trying to remember why.
ChatGPT: Um… okay, so, I was gonna brush my teeth, but, um… first, I was playing with my stuffed animals. They were having a big party, and I was making them all dance and, like, they were pretending to eat cookies. But then, I got really into it because Mr. Fluffy Bear and Sparkles the Unicorn were fighting over who got the last cookie, so I had to fix that.
And then… oh! I think I was supposed to go brush them after that, but then I saw this book on my bed, and it’s the one about the girl who goes on adventures with her dog. And I just wanted to look at it for a little bit. But then… um… I was reading, and it got super interesting! Like, she almost fell into a hole! So, I had to keep reading to see if she was okay. So… um, yeah. That’s why, I think.
ChatGPT-4o November 11, 2024
Cherie’s reaction was priceless. “Oh my god,” she said, equal parts exasperated and amused. “That’s my daughter.” There was a glimmer of recognition in her eyes—the kind you get when you realize your child is, in some ways, just a miniature version of yourself. “She does that all the time! She’ll dig in and double down on the most obviously wrong thing, like it’s her life’s mission to convince me black is white.”
This moment reminded Cherie that rationalizing isn’t unique to children; it’s something all humans do. Recognizing this helped her shift her frustration into empathy, seeing her daughter not as deceptive but as a little person learning how to make sense of her actions—just like adults do.
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