The Gatorade Wasn't the Problem

Yesterday I was making dinner.
Not the peaceful Pinterest version of making dinner.
The real version, ya know pots every where, table half set, sink full, throwing together something he'll actually eat.

I had already worked all day. I had cleaned the house. I had spent time outside working in the yard. I had been trying to run a business in between everything else. By dinner time I was tired.

I was standing at the stove stirring stuffed pepper casserole when Gabriel opened the refrigerator. I didn't bother with the, "dinner will be ready soon." There was no need.

He looked inside.
Closed it.
Walked away.

A few seconds later he was on the couch.
“Get me a Gatorade.”
I looked at him with that blank stare of disbelief.

“You were just in the refrigerator. Why didn’t you grab one?”

Again he told me to get it.

Now, if I’m being completely honest, my first reaction wasn’t curiosity.
It was frustration.
Just get the damn Gatorade.

You’re not little.
You’re not in pain.
You’re not exhausted.
You were literally standing right there.

I didn’t say all of that out loud, but I definitely thought it.

So I asked again.
“Why didn’t you just get one while you were there?”

And that’s when he said something that completely stopped me.
“I didn’t know which one I wanted.”

The spatula went down.
Because suddenly we weren’t talking about a Gatorade anymore.
We were talking about something much bigger.

For the first time, he had given me an explanation that I don’t think he would have been able to give a few years ago.

Maybe it’s maturity.
Maybe it’s self-awareness.
Maybe it’s both.

But in that moment I realized something that hadn’t occurred to me.
If he couldn’t decide which Gatorade he wanted, he was willing to go without one entirely.

Think about that for a second.
This is a child with medical issues who needs to stay hydrated.
A child who drinks more than he eats.
A child who knows if he doesn't stay hydrated he gets sick.
A child who wanted a drink.

And yet the obstacle wasn’t getting the drink.

The obstacle was choosing the drink.
What if he picked the wrong one?
What if he wanted a different flavor later?
What if he couldn’t figure out which one sounded best?

I don’t know exactly what was happening in his head.
What I do know is that the barrier was real enough that he walked away from something he wanted rather than make the choice.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized how often this happens.

Not just with Gatorade.
Kids want a snack but don’t get one.
They want to start a game but never begin.
They want to text a friend but don’t send the message.
They want help but don’t ask.
They want to do something, but somehow get stuck between wanting and doing.

The behavior we see often isn’t the actual problem.
The behavior is just the part that’s visible.

That’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.
Because I remember being a kid and going out to dinner with my dad every week after my parents divorced.
Every week I got the same thing.
Chicken parm.

Not because I loved chicken parm more than every other item on the menu.
But because choosing felt impossible.

I worried about the cost.
I worried about saying the wrong thing.
I just worried. And no-one knew.

I wasn’t much of a talker.
Still aren’t.

So every week I ordered the same meal.
Years later out to eat with my dad and the question came, "what are you getting?" My dad answered - half joke - half not - chicken parm.

But looking back, I wonder if it wasn’t really about the chicken parm at all.
Maybe it was the safest choice.
No decision to make.
No risk of getting it wrong.
No extra conversation required.
Problem solved.

That’s what yesterday reminded me of.
From the outside, behavior can look simple.

A kid won’t get a drink.
A child orders the same meal every time.
A student won’t start an assignment.
A child refuses to answer a question.
But underneath those behaviors can be barriers we don’t immediately see.

Uncertainty.
Decision paralysis.
Fear of making the wrong choice.
Overwhelm.
Anxiety.

The behavior is obvious.
The reason often isn’t.
And sometimes the most important thing we can do is stay curious long enough to discover what’s underneath.

Because the Gatorade wasn’t the problem.
Choosing was.
And if I had stopped at the behavior, I would have completely missed that.

If this idea resonates with you, that’s exactly why I created the Behavior to Need Translator.

Sometimes what we see on the surface isn’t the actual obstacle. The tool was designed to help parents, educators, and therapists look beyond the behavior and consider what might be getting in the way underneath.
Because when we understand the barrier, our response often changes too.