Clamoring for Cake

It was a typical American birthday party, with a sports theme and a homemade cake in the shape of a basketball. The lights were dimmed and the little boys in party hats around the table wanted a piece. Everybody sang Happy Birthday. The lit cake was put in front of Daniel, but instead of automatically blowing out the candles he did something that threw the room into utter chaos. He sat there, dreamily staring at the flickering flames.

A few seconds passed before the other boys started clamoring for cake. In unison they demanded: Blow out the candles! Blow out the candles! Daniel didn’t move. His candlelit gaze stayed fixed on the cake. His parents started getting nervous, glancing at each other. His little brother asked their mother, “Should I blow out the candles for him?” The guests continued their demands, clutching their plastic forks in their tiny fists. His parents urged him to blow out the candles as hot wax pooled on the sugary icing. Daniel maintained his dreamy state.

Finally, as the pandemonium hit a crescendo, he leaned forward calmly, with a smile on his face, and blew out the candles just as his brother, unable to resist another second, helped him. The lights went on. The relief of his parents was palpable. The kids finally got their share of the basketball shaped cake, and order was restored. Later, I took the boy aside and told him that I admired him for resisting the pressure everyone put on him to blow out the candles as soon as the cake was in front of him.

I never forgot the party, and I was surprised later, at another event, when the boy asked me to walk with him out to a dock on a small pond because he wanted to tell me something. As we sat there on a wooden bench, he told me why it had taken him so long to blow out the candles.

“I was imagining my wish,” he said. “I could see myself at home plate, with a whole stadium filled with cheering fans, and all of a sudden I realized that I was wearing a Red Sox jersey. I want to play for the Red Sox but I wouldn’t turn down any major league contract. I couldn’t decide if I should just stick to the Red Sox since that’s my top pick, or make my wish about all the teams, and imagine myself in all of the jerseys and stadiums.”

“So what did you end up wishing?” I asked.

He paused for a long time, as long as he’d paused the day the cake was put in front of him. In the silence we watched ducks dip into the green water.

“I can’t tell you that,” he said. “Or it won’t come true.”

We held hands as we walked back to the party. I’ve never lost the feeling of watching him with that cake, willing to hold his ground as the room around him descended into irrational chaos just because their perceptions of how a child is supposed to instantly react to a cake were tested. We all face this pressure every day, even though for the most part it remains silent and invisible around us, waiting for a chance to explode at the slightest provocation. The reaction is generally short-lived, however, so there’s no reason to live in fear of upsetting people just by doing something they don’t expect. They might freak out, but as soon as they get their cake, they’ll forget all about it.

Nothing gets a rise out of people faster than the unexpected. This is true at all levels, from the family unit all the way up to belonging within a bureaucracy or even a country. Whenever we are in a social inventing brainstorming session at Science House, working with clients who need to combat cumbersome legacy systems and preconceived ideas about their industries in order to truly innovate, I think about Daniel and his candles, and the spirit of pure imagination that exists beyond all pressure to conform. That’s why we brainstorm here in the Imagination Room.

Image credit

@RitaJKing