Rory, a spirited eight-year-old with tousled hair and an infectious grin, stood at the edge of his driveway, eyes fixed on a shiny red bicycle. "Today is the day I finally ride without training wheels!" he announced with determination, his voice echoing with excitement.

Mr. Thompson, with a reassuring smile, looked at Rory. "Remember, balance is key. Keep your eyes forward and trust yourself," he advised, patting Rory's shoulder encouragingly.

Pedaling slowly at first, Rory felt the bike waver beneath him. His heart raced, each pedal a mix of excitement and fear. Mr. Thompson jogged alongside, offering steady support. "I'm doing it! I'm really doing it!" Rory shouted, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.

Rory lay still, his breath caught in his throat. But the soft grass cushioned his fall, and soon he was laughing, more surprised than hurt. Mr. Thompson, kneeling beside him, chuckled along. "Every great rider falls at least once," he said, helping Rory to his feet.

"Let's go again, Dad," Rory urged, climbing back onto the bike. Mr. Thompson nodded, admiration in his eyes, as he steadied the bicycle once more. This time, Rory's confidence surged, his balance more assured.

Rory felt the wind rush past his face as he rode, his laughter mingling with the evening air. He glanced back to see Mr. Thompson cheering, his hands raised in victory. "I did it, Dad! I'm riding!" Rory exclaimed, his voice carrying the joy of newfound freedom.