When it's time to start over.

My son isn't afraid to knock his blocks over.

He'll go about building his towers of blocks, but every time he does, there's rarely a round of block-building that goes by when he doesn't eventually decide it's time to tear everything down in a dramatic fashion and start over.

Some of the things he builds are pretty impressive. I know I'm his father, so I think him stacking one block on top of another is the greatest thing since sliced bread, covered with nutella... but I look at what he does and I'm impressed. I love getting to see him be creative and build things.

But no matter how impressive his building becomes, he still knocks it down. Like any good three-year-old boy, he loves smashing things.

I asked myself the other day: When did I stop enjoying knocking what I've built down?

Maybe the better question is this: When did I start getting so attached to what I've built that I've started to believe I can never knock it all over, start fresh, and create something even better a second (or third or tenth) time around?

How often do we get so nervous about keeping what we've built that we're unwilling to take risks or even start from scratch?

I'm not talking about re-inventing yourself, or even quitting jobs and traveling across the country. That's not the lesson here. I'm talking about the good work we're doing. The work that we sometimes forget matters. I'm talking about remembering what it's like to work hard at building something great - something meaningful and helpful and then not being afraid to knock some things over and start again when that great thing you know in your gut you need to be working on requires it.

Let's build something better. Let's knock some things over and start fresh when we need to. Let's remember what our three-year-old self knew.