There are moments as a parent when I would really prefer the system to be simple. I give the instruction, the child follows it, everybody moves on, and somewhere an imaginary parenting scoreboard adds a point next to my name. “Put your shoes away.” Done. “Come to dinner.” Done. “Stop arguing with your brother.” Done. The problem is that children are people, which means obedience is rarely just about whether the instruction was clear.

Some words a parent hears can immediately change how they see a child. Autism. ADHD. Dyslexia. Dysgraphia. A diagnosis can answer questions that have been hanging in the air for years, explain behaviors that never quite made sense, and sometimes bring enormous relief because suddenly there is language for what a family has been experiencing. But it can also become so large that the diagnosis begins swallowing everything else about the child, until strengths, humor, creativity, persistence, curiosity, tenderness, and intelligence all get viewed through one clinical label.

I remember looking at one of my kids before a family activity and immediately realizing they were anxious. I could see it on their face and in how they carried themselves, and my dad instincts kicked in quickly. I told myself I was being compassionate and attentive to what my child needed in that moment. So I changed the whole day. We did not do the thing that was making them nervous, and everybody moved on with less tension. But later, sitting in the car, another question hit me: did I just teach my child that anxiety gets to make the decision?