I suppose "men" would be replaced with "people" if the film were made today, but life has a way of imposing limits on us. We encounter them everywhere we go, and with every turn. In fact, these limits are so commonplace that we are often only superficially aware of them. Whether it's the remaining number of hours of sunlight in any given day or how long a battery will last, knowing the limits in life helps one navigate better than those who do not.
As a father, I have tried to help my children understand their own limitations, as well as understand more about the limitations that are beyond their control. Understanding why things are how they are (despite what you do) is essential for anyone who wants to succeed in life. The challenge for me, beyond my perfect intentions, has been figuring out a way to convey how it affects our individual perspectives in relatable terms.
The thing is, perspective is something we can never escape, even if we pay it no mind. It defines us, motivates us, and challenges us. Everything from political leanings to behavior is governed by our perspective. Fatherhood taught me the value of perspective in ways I never previously anticipated when my children shared their perspectives with me, because the perspective of a child is unlike any other. Yes, it governs their behavior, but it hasn't yet been corrupted by the pitfalls of adulthood and is decidedly less jaded.
My daughter caught me by surprise with the sincerity and warmth she demonstrated extremely early on. She has also always had a vivid imagination and has never failed to inspire me with it. As soon as her limited vocabulary would allow her to, she actively spoke with her toys, responding as though there was a back and forth. She would even seat them opposite her at her toy picnic table set and offer them shares of her food, because they were hungry too.
One time, we were visiting the Ophthalmologist and ended up describing how she feeds her toys for whatever reason, but as we were failing to paint a vivid picture, we asked my daughter to demonstrate. There she was, eighteen months old, and wondering why all the adults in the room were so intent on watching her toy eat. She held her bag of Cheerios under her stuffed Chihuahua's nose, despite her unmistakable suspicion. "Num num num, NO!"
As she shouted the last word, she jerked the bag of food away swiftly and forcefully as if declaring, "That's enough, you GLUTTON!" Or perhaps she meant, "I said you could have SOME, not ALL!" Our doctor burst into really energetic laughter, clearly blindsided, prompting us to laugh harder than we otherwise would have. Even my daughter laughed, despite her confusion as to why.
Some limits are learned whether we want to or not, as our doctor found out. In addition to discovering that maintaining professional composure around my children was always going to be a challenge, she learned what happens when toys take more than their share of Cheerios. My daughter had already learned the limits of her toys' imaginary stomach and she wasn't afraid to let her toys know when those limits were reached. So much for my perfect intentions.
