Selena stood in the middle of the floor, her tiny feet planted firmly as Mom gently asked her to walk by herself. The request felt impossible to Selena in that moment. Her face tightened, eyes filling with frustration, and suddenly a loud scream burst from her chest. She shook her head hard, making it clear she would not move. Not one step.
Mom tried again, kneeling down and opening her arms, encouraging Selena with a calm voice. But Selena ignored her completely. She screamed louder, sharper, the sound filled with anger and fear mixed together. Walking alone meant leaving safety. It meant effort. It meant growing up just a little too fast for her heart.
Selena dropped to the floor in protest, slapping the ground with her hands. Her body trembled as the tantrum took over. She didn’t want lessons today. She wanted to be carried, protected, close. Mom watched carefully, staying nearby, resisting the urge to pick her up immediately. She wanted Selena to try, but not to feel abandoned.
The screaming slowly turned into breathless sobs. Selena peeked up through wet lashes, checking if Mom was still there. She was. Calm. Waiting. The anger softened into confusion. Selena pushed herself up slightly, wobbling, then sat back down again. It wasn’t a walk, but it was an effort.
Mom smiled gently and praised her, moving closer without forcing. Selena leaned into her legs, still refusing to walk, but no longer screaming. Mom lifted her at last, holding her close. Selena sighed deeply, burying her face against Mom’s shoulder. She hadn’t walked alone today. And that was okay. Sometimes learning happens slowly. In patience. In safety. In knowing Mom will always be there—even when the steps feel too big.
