Why I Say Yes

If you’ve read any of our previous adventures — like that time I learned to surf with my four daughters here, or when we made family decision-making into an art form here, or even how we turned curiosity into a lifestyle here — you might already know that I try to live by a very simple parenting philosophy:

Say Yes.

Even when it’s easier, neater, quieter, and far more comfortable to say no.

I don’t always succeed. I’ve said "not today" when I meant "maybe someday" and "we’ll see or let me think about it" when I really meant "no, because I don’t want to clean up another mess." But over the years, I’ve come to realize something pretty powerful:

Most of the best memories we’ve made as a family came from moments where I said yes... even when it would've been easier not to.

"Can We Make a Tent Out of Bedsheets?"

It was a Tuesday. I had emails to answer, laundry to fold, and at least three half-finished mugs of coffee scattered across the house. My youngest daughter walked in dragging two sheets, a roll of duct tape, and a flashlight.

"Can we make a tent?"

Everything in me wanted to say, " Oh, no... not now."

But I saw that look in her eyes — the one that says, "This is the most important thing in the world right now."

So I said, "Yeah. Let’s do it."

Thirty minutes later, there was an architectural masterpiece strung between the living room chairs and the couch, secured with rubber bands and shoelaces. :) My email inbox didn’t collapse. The laundry didn’t self-destruct. But my daughter? She looked at me like I was a superhero.

The Ripple Effect of Yes

Saying yes has ripple effects.

"Dad, can we try sushi even if it’s raw?"

"Can we sleep outside in the backyard tonight?"

"Can we learn how to make candles?"

Each yes opened a door. To discovery. To independence. To laughter and sometimes to chaos.

I said yes to backyard camping and we ended up learning how to identify constellations. I said yes to a baking challenge and we got banana bread and a fire alarm story. I said yes to trying sushi and two of my daughters now proudly claim wasabi is their favorite food. Good find :)

Saying yes doesn’t just allow for fun. It teaches trust.

My kids know they can come to me with ideas, even weird ones. Especially weird ones. Even very weird ones... And they know there’s a good chance I won’t dismiss them out of hand.

When "Yes" is Scary

Not every yes is easy. Some are terrifying.

Like when we all took surfing lessons together.

"What if we fall?" they asked.

"What if we get embarrassed?"

"What if we can’t do it?"

To be honest, I was asking myself the same things. But we said yes anyway. We fell. A lot. We swallowed saltwater and got tangled in leashes and came back sore in places we didn’t know existed.

But we did it.

And now we have that memory, that accomplishment, that inside joke.

(Also, one of my daughters still brings up how I wiped out on a two-foot wave. Apparently, some stories never die.)

Messy, Loud, and Absolutely Worth It

One weekend, the girls wanted to paint. Not just on paper — they wanted to paint the windows with washable paint to "make stained glass."

I paused. I thought about the cleanup, the towels, the glass cleaner. I thought about the neighbors walking by and wondering why our living room looked like an art museum run by wild raccoons.

Then I said yes.

For three hours, our home was filled with giggles, paint-smeared hands, and the occasional "ooooops." But the windows looked magical. And they looked at me like I had just said yes to magic.

Saying Yes to Learning

You might remember our journey into learning without grades. That entire philosophy started with a few small yesses.

"Can I try baking on my own?"

"Can I teach myself how to make a video game?"

"Can I learn guitar even if I don’t take lessons?"

Every one of those questions required me to put aside my need for structure or measurable results. Every one of them opened up a path of genuine curiosity.

Now, I say yes to learning in the messy middle. I say yes to experiments, even the ones that flop. Especially those.

The Archery Lesson I Didn't See Coming

One of my daughters asked if she could try archery. My first instinct? "Archery? That sounds... complicated."

But then I remembered: almost everything they love started with an uncertain yes.

We found a certified instructor nearby and booked private lessons. We started in the backyard with beginner gear and lots of missed targets. But it quickly became more than just hitting the bullseye.

She learned focus. Patience. Control. Every time she drew the bowstring, I saw her posture shift — not just physically, but in confidence.

Now she practices weekly. Sometimes I join her. Sometimes I miss the target entirely. But the point isn’t precision — it’s presence.

And it started with yes.

Saying Yes to Saying No (Sometimes)

Let me be clear: Saying yes doesn’t mean you become a pushover or a servant to every whim. Sometimes the most loving thing I can say is "Not today, but let’s plan it," or "Yes, but help me clean up after."

But the practice of leaning toward yes has changed how I parent. It’s made me more flexible. More fun. More in awe of how creative and capable my kids really are.

"Thanks for Saying Yes, Dad"

One night, after a late picnic dinner on the roof (yes, that happened), my oldest said something I won’t forget:

"Thanks for saying yes. I know it was kind of a hassle. But it was the best part of my week."

You can’t frame that. You can’t measure it. But that’s the stuff I’m going to remember when they’re grown and gone.

The moments I said yes.

Even when it would’ve been easier to say no.

What Will You Say Yes To?

Say yes to the messy art projects. Say yes to dancing in the kitchen. Say yes to teaching your kid how to use a screwdriver, even if it means a slightly crooked bookshelf. Say yes to puddle jumping, backyard camping, late-night stargazing.

Because one day, they’ll stop asking.

And I want them to remember that their dad didn’t just say yes to the easy stuff.

He said yes to them.

And that, to me, is the real win.

You never know what you’ll say yes to next.