Baby Steps Access
Leo took a breath, pushed off, and immediately wobbled. He squeezed the brakes so hard the bike jerked to a halt. He felt the familiar sting of frustration. "Again," his dad encouraged.
Leo wasn't. "Can’t I just keep the small wheels for one more week?" Baby Steps
He didn't ride a mile that day. He didn't even make it to the end of the block. But when he parked the bike back in the garage, he wasn't the same kid who had walked out. The distance didn't matter; the fact that he had moved forward did. Leo took a breath, pushed off, and immediately wobbled
"You could," his dad said softly. "But you’ve already mastered the small wheels. They aren't helping you anymore; they're just holding you back. Just focus on the first ten feet. That’s all. Baby steps." "Again," his dad encouraged
Leo pedaled. He stopped thinking about the "falling" and started feeling the "moving." By the time he reached the mailbox, his father’s hand was no longer on the seat. Leo was gliding. The wind, which had felt like a wall before, was now a cool hand against his face.
