It was just me and you.
I would convince you that today was going to be the day I would ride my tricycle down the street and back, and you would believe in me.
So we would leave, me on the tricycle, you walking by my side.
Inevitably we would get to the end of the road and I would tell you I was too tired to keep going. You would tell me you believed I could do it, but once I proclaimed it wasn't going to be today, you would say okay, maybe tomorrow.
Tricycle in your one hand, and my hand in your other we would walk back to our house. Along the way you would tell me how you knew tomorrow would be the day I made it the entire way.
So the next day, I would convince you that I was ready to make that entire trip on my own, and you would agree. Tricycle in one hand, and my hand in the other, we would inevitably walk back together. You would once again tell me tomorrow is going to be the day.
So every day, for quite some time I continued to wake up and believe in myself. Today would be the day. Only it wasn't. For a long time it wasn't the day, only it was. You see, every one of those trips down our tiny little street you taught me that you believed in me, and in doing that I learned to believe in myself.
I learned that with each day there was new hope at accomplishing great things. I learned that I had a father who was never going to give up on me.
I learned that I should keep trying and that you would patiently help me get to where I was trying to go, even if that meant carrying my tricycle in one hand and my hand in the other.
One day I woke up and knew it was the day. I just knew I could do it. We arrived at the end of our street, and I made the turn. You looked at me and said, today is the day!
Only it wasn't, because for one more day, I was going to hold your hand while you carried my tricycle in the other.

This piece it originally appeared on Outsmarted Mommy by Jennifer Lizza