The morning sun peeked through the trees, casting long shadows across the garden path. Mommy held Harry close, preparing to set him down so he could practice walking. At just over a year old, Harry was growing fast, but his stubborn streak was even faster.
“Come on, Harry,” Mommy coaxed gently. “You’re a big boy now. You can walk by yourself.”
But Harry had other plans. The moment Mommy loosened her hold, Harry clung to her like a tiny koala, his arms wrapping tightly around her neck. He buried his face in her shoulder, shaking his head furiously.
“No, Harry,” Mommy said with a soft chuckle, trying to peel him off gently. “You need to walk. Mommy’s arms are tired.”
Harry let out a dramatic whimper, squeezing even tighter. His little legs dangled in the air, refusing to touch the ground. When Mommy tried to shift him, he began his signature wail, a mix of protest and sheer determination.
The nearby birds paused their chirping, startled by the volume of Harry’s cries. His tiny face scrunched up, tears brimming in his big, round eyes. “Up! Up!” he insisted, his little voice cracking as he pleaded.
Mommy sighed but couldn’t help smiling at her stubborn baby. “Alright, you win, Mr. Sticky,” she said, hoisting him back up.
Harry immediately stopped crying, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. He nuzzled into her neck, his little hands gripping her shirt as if to ensure she wouldn’t dare let him go again.
As they continued their walk, Mommy couldn’t help but laugh. “One day, Harry, you’ll want to run everywhere. And I’ll miss this clingy little boy of mine.”
But for now, Harry was perfectly content in Mommy’s arms, exactly where he wanted to be.