Little Atong was not happy. His mom had decided it was time for him to practice walking, but he had other ideas. The moment she gently placed him down on the floor, encouraging him to take those first wobbly steps, his face scrunched up with frustration.
Instead of trying, Atong let out a loud, piercing scream that echoed through the room. His tiny body shook with anger as his mom patiently nudged him forward. “Come on, Atong,” her gentle eyes seemed to say, “you can do this.” But Atong was stubborn. He wanted to be carried, not trained.
Each time his mom held his little hands and guided him, he pulled back, squealing even louder, his cries sharp and angry. His small legs kicked against the floor, and he threw his arms up toward her chest, begging to be picked up instead. The training felt like torture to him—why walk when mom’s arms were so much safer?
But his mom did not give up. With patience, she let him cry, let him pout, and then gently tried again. Step by tiny step, Atong’s feet touched the ground, wobbling clumsily but holding. His screams slowly softened, replaced with confused hiccups as he realized he was actually standing on his own.
Finally, with one shaky step, then another, Atong managed a short walk into his mom’s waiting arms. She hugged him tightly, showering him with comfort. Though he had screamed and fought with all his might, he had done something new—something brave.
That day, Atong learned that even angry tears couldn’t stop him from growing. And while he would always prefer mom’s arms, deep inside, he had taken his very first steps toward independence.
