Yesterday as I was folding laundry, Samuel was building with his Duplo blocks. I heard him say, “I gotta make it perfect”. And my heart was pierced. He is three years old. I stopped what I was doing and went into a monologue about how it doesn’t have to be perfect and found myself floundering because did he not learn this concept from me? I am trying to cut the word “perfect” out of my vocabulary, but it’s not enough to not say it, because it’s a matter of the heart. The pursuit of perfect is not just unhealthy, it is deadly. No one is perfect but God alone. And…