What a Second-Grader’s Bedroom Taught Me About Money
The real reason you can’t have it all.
Last week, my friend’s second-grader came home upset because “everyone else has bigger beds.” Some kids even have two beds in their rooms.
So I played out the scenario in my head:
“Okay,” I imagined saying. “Let’s get you two giant beds.”
Her face would’ve lit up—yes, this was the dream.
“Great. But to make room… we’ll need to get rid of your dresser. Or maybe your play area. Which one should we take out?”
And I could picture it—the tiny existential crisis of a child doing toddler-sized geometry in my head:
“Two beds… minus dresser… equals sadness.”
It’s the moment she realizes her room has edges.
Walls. Borders. Limits.
In other words: constraints.
This is the exact moment every adult eventually meets, too.
The Universe of Infinite Options Does Not Exist
If you believe you can have infinite space, infinite money, infinite choices, you will never feel satisfied—because there will always be someone who has more.
More room.
More toys.
More vacations.
More “optimization.”
Paula Pant says it well: “You can afford anything… but not everything.”
And adults aren’t much better than kids.
We just want bigger houses instead of bigger beds… although sometimes also bigger beds.
We say things like “I’m simplifying my life,” and then buy a $34 storage basket to hold the stuff we were supposed to get rid of.
(Minimalism is expensive.)
Life is a series of choices inside a room with walls.
The Trade-Off Hiding Inside Every “Yes”
Someone asked me recently, “Did you have to sacrifice anything to reach financial independence?”
Part of me wants to say no—we lived well, stayed joyful, and avoided the bare-bones misery version of saving.
But the deeper truth is this:
Everything is a sacrifice.
And it’s not just people pursuing FI who sacrifice.
People sacrifice their future all the time by buying things right now.
Not because they’re reckless.
Not because they’re indulgent.
Often because they’re overwhelmed, stressed, or trying to make the present feel survivable.
And I get it—I have a hard time walking past a store’s endcap aisle without thinking, “Maybe I need this?”
This is where the misconception lives.
We act like the only sacrifice is the one you make to retire early.
But the opposite sacrifice is just as real:
If you don’t save for your future, you’re sacrificing your future.
If you don’t invest, you’re sacrificing your future freedom.
Both paths involve giving something up.
One sacrifices expansion now.
The other sacrifices flexibility later.
Neither is morally superior.
Both are human.
And for people in true survival mode, none of this is about lattes or budgeting hacks—it’s about trying to breathe.
Survival mode is its own kind of sacrifice.
“Sacrifice” Is Just a Loaded Word for “Trade”
We hear “sacrifice” and think loss, deprivation, struggle.
But sacrifice simply means:
“I traded this… so I could have that.”
If I volunteer at a local music school and spend an hour helping a kid learn “Smoke on the Water,” I’m giving up time I could’ve spent doing something else. But it doesn’t feel like sacrifice if it aligns with my values.
Same with money.
Same with careers.
Same with relationships.
Same with lifestyle design.
Sacrifice isn’t a tragedy.
It’s a transaction.
Whether you acknowledge it or not, the trade is happening.
My Daughter’s Multiverse House
My oldest daughter recently told me:
“I want a house that’s on the water… but also in the woods… but also downtown in the city.”
She wants everything, everywhere, all at once — which honestly is the most accurate summary of adulthood I’ve ever heard.
And I get it.
I want the ocean, the woods, and the city — and I’ve checked: Zillow does not offer that filter.
But choosing one good option means not choosing another good option.
A place in the woods means no ocean.
A place on the ocean means no city.
A place in the city means no cabin in the pines.
Some people try to solve this by owning multiple homes.
But even then, trade-offs don’t disappear—they just move.
You’re always missing something somewhere.
The grass isn’t always greener.
The grass is just different.
It’s Not About Getting Everything You Want—It’s About Wanting What You Choose
This isn’t about settling.
It’s about waking up to the truth that any life you choose—any job, any budget, any lifestyle—comes with edges.
Once you accept the edges, choices become easier.
You stop choosing based on what you might be giving up
and start choosing based on what you actually value.
You stop living for comparison
and start living for alignment.
You stop chasing the life you “should” want
and start building the one that fits.
Comparison is wild. Someone else’s house could be falling apart, but if they have a sauna, suddenly you rethink your entire life.
Once you align your spending (and your time) with your values, it doesn’t matter who has a bigger bed—or a bigger house or a fancier life.
Because you have the one that fits you.