Sammy, a spirited child with tousled hair and wide, curious eyes, sits cross-legged on the floor. His small hands grip a broken toy car, and his brow is furrowed in frustration. He glances at the pieces, his cheeks flushed, and takes a deep breath as his mom enters the room.

"Why does everything always break when I want to play?" Sammy’s voice rises, edged with a quiver. He squeezes the toy tighter, fighting the urge to throw it. The stuffed bear seems to watch him in silent sympathy, its button eyes glinting in the light.

Mom, calm and patient, looks into his eyes. "It’s okay to feel angry, Sammy. Everyone gets upset sometimes. What matters is what we do with those big feelings." She picks up a wheel and holds it out. "Do you want to talk about it or maybe squeeze your bear for a minute?"

"I just… I wanted to make the car go fast, but now it’s broken. I feel like yelling," he admits, his voice softer. "That’s a brave thing to say," Mom replies. "Would you like to stomp your feet or draw your feelings before we try to fix it together?"

"I feel a little better now," Sammy confides. The anger that once bubbled inside him has softened, replaced by a sense of calm. Mom smiles, sliding the paper closer. "You handled your anger in a really healthy way, Sammy. I’m proud of you,"

"Next time I get mad, maybe I can draw or hug my bear first," Sammy says, hope flickering in his eyes. "That’s a great plan," Mom agrees. As the toy car rolls across the rug, the room feels lighter, filled with understanding, warmth, and the promise of more peaceful days ahead.