Recently, my son baked a cake from scratch for the first time ever, accompanied by his mommy.  It was a huge milestone.

He was very proud of himself.  But, as soon as the cake was baked and frosted, he ate just one small bite, then quickly grew disinterested in the cake so that he could eat icing and watch a movie.

So much for taking pleasure in your creations.

As I thought about this, it reminded me of those Tibetan monks who create the ornate sand designs and then as soon as they finish, they destroy the sand design so that it’s gone forever.  Most people are horrified by this, but the monks are completely serene as if to say “hey, we have no pride, no ego.”

That was my son.  I was ready to spike the ball and do a touchdown dance, and he acted as if he was saying: “hey, it’s just a cake.  It’s not World Peace.”

By contrast, he was watching the movie Frozen just after the cake-baking and when the song “Let It Go” came on, he literally grabbed me and said, “Daddy we have to sing.”

But, what about your creation?  Your cake?

He looked at me as if to say “ what cake?”  Like he had already forgotten that the cake existed and that he was the one who created it.

It made me wonder, “am I wrong?  Am I focused on the wrong things?  Why do I think he should take more pride in the baking of a cake?  What does that really mean?”

I sat there for a bit and thought about it, and I wondered whether the cake was a metaphor for accomplishment.  Maybe I’m projecting.  Maybe I feel like I haven’t accomplished enough or gotten enough recognition for the few accomplishments I do have, and so I can’t imagine how or why my son can just walk away so nonchalantly from something he created.

Or maybe that’s just the dumbest idea, and I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about.

But I do believe it means something.  I think my son’s willingness to walk away from something he created is a good thing.  It shows a lack of ego.  It shows he’s much more interested in living in the present (i.e., watching Frozen and singing) then dwelling and reveling in something that he did in the past.

Of course, his past is only three years long, so it’s not like he has a treasure trove of memories. He hasn’t had his heart broken yet or been fired or passed on a real estate deal that hit it big, so, really, when you think about it, his past isn’t all that dramatic.  I, on the other hand, could keep a team of psychiatrists busy for a month or two with the closet-full of past mistakes, regrets, errors, and missed opportunities that I dwell upon on an almost daily basis.

Maybe that’s why my accomplishments and creations mean more to me than his do to him.  I know what’s at stake better than he does.  I have a better understanding of the concept of loss.  I know what he doesn’t know, which is that sometimes opportunities to bake a cake don’t come around very often so you probably ought to enjoy the baked cakes while they’re here because you may not get the chance to bake one many more times, if ever.

Or maybe, you know, it’s just a Duncan Hines cake with sickly-sweet icing and it didn’t taste nearly as good as the 19,000 other forms of cookies, baked goods, and other desserts and snacks that we have stored in our kitchen for his royal three year oldness’s pleasure.  So, taking a bite and discarding it wasn’t about rising above ego, it was just a demonstration of good sense and discriminating taste buds.

I’d like to hang on to the former concept, as it makes me seem wiser and more learned as opposed to just being a crazy New Age-y parent who thinks everything his son creates is “fantastic!” even if it’s a poop.

Truth is, I do think there are two important ideas at work here.  I think the Monks  (and my wise-beyond-his-years son) are onto something.  Ego is a tricky thing.  It can lead you to think some bad thoughts and to take some bad actions.  Dwelling on accomplishment too much can lead to narcissism and self-absorption and self-congratulation.  It can also trap you in a downward, depressive spiral as you obsess over all the things you haven’t accomplished, even if some of them were never going to happen (e.g, I was never going to be able to dunk a basketball).

By contrast, if you let go of ego you can be far more at peace with the World around you.  Without ego, there’s no pride to be offended, no Joneses to keep up with, no reason to view life as zero-sum.  Instead, you can just enjoy things and people for what they are rather than constantly measuring your worth in competition with others and with your own, past self or your visions of your future self.

Of course, letting go completely of ego seems impossible.  But, fully humoring your ego is a dangerous course.  So, what is the best course?

It’s this – you have to be somewhere in the middle.  You can’t let ego control you, but when you do accomplish something you shouldn’t merely toss it away.  Accomplishments are accomplishments because they require work and discipline and passion and dedication to achieve, and there’s nothing wrong with spending a moment or two or three to really let what you accomplished sink in as long as you can retain a sense of humility and proportion.

In other words, cut the cake in half and keep half for yourself. Because to paraphrase the words of the wise King Solomon: “half a cake is better than no cake at all.”

Oh, and don’t sing along to a movie with a three-year old unless you’ve been given explicit permission to do so, otherwise they will yell at you.