Sublimating toward the Sublime

Last Saturday night toward bedtime, my 9-year-old daughter was lobbying for the password so she could play a computer game, and I resisted. After a few earnest/angry attempts, her last words came defiantly from a distance as she headed for her bedroom. I don't exactly remember the words, but this was their spirit-- "Fine! I'll write a book!"

Later my daughter returned with sincere excitement and told me something of her book idea.

Nobody asked her to use creativity as a consolation prize for pleasure denied.

How many better choices, how many deeper things, are the result of preempted ease?