Saturday. Waffles in the bellies. Messy hair clipped and ponied.

Fire up the street. Sesame Street.

Opening scene. Letter of the day. And now it’s time for Cookie Monster.

Cookie and his buddy Gonger’s food truck get an order from a kid.

“Hey, guys! It’s a beautiful day! Can you make me a smoothie to share with my friends?”

The monsters spring into action. Gonger says, “Let’s check the recipe!”

Ice. Berries. Peanut butter. Milk.

Only one problem.

Cookie always swipes an ingredient.

“Me drank all the milk.”

Gonger gets annoyed. But he’s a professional. Says we gotta hit the dairy farm, and the wholesome lesson for the kids about where milk comes from commences.

Milk acquired. Smoothie made. Catapulted to the kid.

Everyone’s happy.

Then Gonger, without fail, will say, “Cookie, I saved this nice for you.”

And the dude who was fucking shit up gets rewarded with the delicious smoothie leftovers.

Why?

Because no matter how big a disaster he is…Cookie’s easy to repair with.

No ego. Vibes. And I resonate with this dude.

When I had a community of entrepreneurs before I moved to 1:1 coaching, I told the crew every week, “I’m building the airplane as it takes off.”

Translation? Let me tell you now. I’m gonna fuck things up occasionally, but the vibes will always be here, and my ego will never stand in the way of getting better.

I see this as a skill.

When you’re wrong, it pays to not be weird about it.

A lot of capable adults are the opposite.

Great at the job. Terrible to recover with.

Needing to be right. Having to explain it all. Lobbying to the gallery that they had good reasons.

Some weird need for reassurance from all involved to move on.

And now a simple mistake has turned into this ego obstacle course.

Which one’s faster?

“Well, technically, the milk was positioned too close to me, and also I’ve been under a lot of stress, and also I think we need to revisit the operational design of this food truck.”

or

“Me drank all the milk.”

Nobody wants to be in the food truck with the person who can’t own it.

The mistake is rarely as expensive as the way we act after it.

When I’m not the A+ dad I want to be, I don’t make it about the kid. They didn’t force me to react.

I’ll admit the mistake immediately. Explain my point of view. Then, when things cool, I ask if they understood and tell them I love them three times.

You can shoot for being flawless, but you’re gonna fuck things up.

And that’s fine.

You’re either willing to own it, or your ego takes over.

Explaining. Defending. Disappearing.

Some courtroom-style drama where we all have to agree you’re a good person to move on.

No thanks.

So, here’s the question:

Where are you making your mistakes harder to recover from than they need to be?

The apology that’s a bit late. That deadline you promised and missed. The thing you said you’d become but haven’t.

You can be capable as hell and still expensive to recover with.

Or you can be the person who says, “Me drank all the milk,” gets in the truck, and goes to the dairy farm.

No ego.

Back in motion.

The smoothie still gets made.

Don’t make the repair more expensive than the mistake.

-C