Zoey sits cross-legged on the floor, clutching a book as her eyebrows scrunch together. The pages blur before her eyes, and little fists clench in frustration. Nearby, Mocha the dog rests her chin on Zoey’s knee, her tail thumping quietly, while Mom stands in the doorway, holding a pair of pink sneakers. "Zoey, sweetheart, time to get ready for school," she calls gently, but Zoey shakes her head, her face turning stormy.

Zoey crawls under the table, hugging her knees to her chest. Her breath comes in fast little bursts, and tears drip onto her pajama pants. Mocha scoots under beside her, pressing her warm body close and licking her hand. "I don't want to go yet! I want to play! I can't read the words!" she wails, her voice muffled by the tablecloth.

Mom takes a deep breath, counting softly. "Ten... nine... eight..." She opens her eyes, steadier now, and walks back to the living room. Kneeling by the table, she lifts the cloth and offers a gentle smile. "Sometimes I have big feelings too, Zoey," she says softly. Mocha gives a little encouraging woof.

Mom sits crisscross applesauce next to Zoey, taking her hands and squeezing gently. Mocha nudges a favorite stuffed animal into Zoey’s lap. "Let’s do big breaths together. Ready? In... and out," Zoey sniffs, then follows her mom, breathing deeply. The storm inside her starts to calm.

Zoey crawls out, wipes her cheeks, and lets Mom help her with her shoes. Mocha circles them, making a silly face until both Zoey and Mom giggle. "Can Mocha come with us to the door?" she asks, hope lighting her face. "Of course, Zoey. Mocha always helps us bounce back," Mom replies.

Zoey skips down the steps, her big feelings faded like morning mist. Mocha barks joyfully, racing ahead. Mom squeezes her hand. "We did it, Zoey. We can always bounce back, together," she says. Zoey grins, ready for whatever the day might bring, knowing Mocha and Mom will be by her side.