This time, Leo didn’t look at the end of the street. He looked at a single oil stain on the concrete five feet away. He pushed. One pedal rotation. Two. The bike leaned left, and he corrected it. It leaned right, and he corrected it again. He reached the oil stain. "I did it," he whispered. "Five more feet," his dad called out.
"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." Baby Steps
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. This time, Leo didn’t look at the end of the street