My oldest son, 6, is dutiful and obedient, a prototypical “good kid.” Last week, though, after a spotless kindergarten year, he got his first gentle reprimand from an authority figure at school — just a caution, really.

Watching him react with heartbreak brought back memories. My wife and I assured him that we don’t expect perfection, just honest effort.

I remember sobbing in my bedroom as a 6-year-old when I discovered that the A-minus I got in first-grade writing was a tarnished A, a less-than-perfect grade.

Like father, like son.

I know from experience that perfectionism sets you up for a lifetime of disappointment. Even after 50 years of life experiences, I still find it hard to take criticism. My face flushes. My ears ring. I think of withering rejoinders that get stuck in my throat.

You rationalize that your self-control is the heavy, but necessary, price for avoiding conflicts that could jeopardize your career or your relationships. This is only partially true.

Prudence finds a path between weakness and recklessness. Security without self-respect is low-calorie nourishment. It’s a lesson I’ve seen reinforced by my 1-year-old son, who comes from the shoot-from-the-hip school of life management.

One day last week, he decided, for reasons all his own, that he would skip nap for the first time in his 20-month lifetime. When his day-care teacher suggested, repeatedly, that this nap-skipping might be a flawed decision, he responded with a firm, “No, No” and “No.”

As a toddler, he comes by his willfulness honestly, but I suspect that this is also a personality trait. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who will ever be compliant. He has added measures of charm and outright goofiness — not to mention a big, dimpled smile — that balance him out.

I recognize rebellious personality traits swimming right below the surface inside me, and I admire my 1-year-old for setting his free.

I expect that he’s the kind of child who will need to be bailed out of trouble sometimes but who will live a life unencumbered by worry and regret. I think he’ll make a great entrepreneur, for example, unafraid to risk — and lose — everything once or twice. Ultimately, I expect he’ll enjoy a good, friend-filled life.

When you hope for a better life for your children, your think about money and education. But the truth is that your children can lead a better life based on experiences that money can’t buy.

After all, courage and charisma, not cash, are the true currencies of a rich adult life. The older I get, the more I realize: Man does not live by dread alone.

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