Dad bribed me to complete my first book.
The offer seemed pretty generous: One shiny dime. The Tooth Fairy’s going rate in the 1970s.
I whipped through See Spot Run.
He was pleased placing that dime in my palm.
Candy money pleased me.
Yet that exchange was a catalyst. A love of books eventually kicked in. Payments soon phased out. I never stopped reading.
On the face of things, it seems like one of Dad’s parenting triumphs.
Yet today I see my reading habit was less about my candy-purchasing power, than perhaps…
The autonomy I felt reading on my own?
The sense of accomplishment?
The thrill of exploring unknown worlds?
He further posits that the intrinsic takes 3 forms: autonomy (self-direction), mastery (meaningful improvements), and purpose (bigger meaning).
I’m now reading with my daughter. She’s at a tipping point.
It leads me to wonder if shiny dimes risk obscuring her self-motivation and satisfactions found in exploring.
In another context, I also wonder if the truth of my youthful “dime novels” applies even now in my adult, work life.
Now I ask: What shiny dimes are obscuring your exploration?
Read. Connect. Reflect.