My memories of life as an infant are a bit foggy, but I do vaguely recall that my parents put a great deal of emphasis on success. One day, they removed all the sharp-edged furniture from my path, lifted me onto my feet, then gently coaxed me as I staggered across the room. Little by little, day by day, they helped me succeed in the challenging art of walking on two pudgy feet, and—before long—I became a full-fledged biped.
By: Jonathan McNair
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In similar fashion, I moved from joyfully cramming creamed corn into my mouth with my hands and learned, with a lot of time and practice, to eat with a utensil. Eventually the applesauce in my bowl was no match for me and my spoon. Thankfully, my parents were patient and had plenty of applesauce.