Little Sampson had always been happiest in his mother’s arms. There, the world felt safe and warm. But one morning, Mom decided it was time for him to try something new—his very first steps on the floor.
The moment his tiny feet touched the ground, Sampson froze. The surface felt strange, rough, and unfamiliar. Instead of curiosity, fear and frustration filled his little heart. His face tightened, his lips curled, and then—boom! The tantrum began.
Sampson screamed loudly, his tiny voice ringing through the room. He threw his arms out, reaching desperately for Mom to pick him back up. His legs kicked, his little fists pounded the floor, and his eyes brimmed with angry tears. To him, walking wasn’t a proud milestone—it was pure betrayal.
Mom stayed calm, crouching beside him with patience. She let him cry, let him protest, but gently encouraged him to try again. “You can do it,” her touch seemed to say, as she guided his small steps forward. Sampson resisted, wailing with every movement, his tantrum echoing like thunder in such a tiny body.
But then something shifted. Between the cries and the stomps, Sampson managed a shaky step—then another. His tantrum slowed as confusion replaced his anger. Could he really walk? His eyes widened in surprise, though his little mouth still pouted stubbornly.
At last, he stumbled into Mom’s arms, clinging tightly, tears still wet on his cheeks. She kissed his head proudly, whispering comfort as his tantrum melted into quiet sniffles.
That day, Sampson didn’t just walk for the first time—he also showed the world his fiery spirit. Even through tears and tantrums, he had taken his first steps into growing up.
