It happened so fast.
Scarlett had been building the tower for almost an hour. Tall, careful, just one block from finished.
Then Pudding’s tail swept past.
The tower crashed.
Something hot rushed up through Scarlett’s chest, into her arms, into her hands.
“PUDDING!” she shouted, louder than she meant to. She kicked at the scattered blocks. One hit the wall.
Pudding scurried away, ears down.
Scarlett stood there, breathing hard, fists clenched.
The hot feeling didn’t go away. It just sat there, buzzing.
Lenny appeared in the doorway. He didn’t say anything about the blocks, or the shouting, or the kick.
He just sat down on the floor, a little distance away, and waited.
Scarlett’s breathing slowed. Eventually she sat down too.
“I’m really angry,” she said, surprised by how shaky her voice sounded.
“I can see that,” said Lenny.
“It’s not fair. I worked on that for so long.”
“It’s not fair,” Lenny agreed. “And it makes sense that you’re angry.”
Scarlett looked up. “It does?”
“Anger isn’t a bad feeling,” said Lenny. “It’s a feeling that tells you something mattered to you. Your tower mattered. Your hard work mattered. Of course it feels big when it gets knocked down.”
“But I shouted. And I kicked the blocks. And I scared Pudding.”
Lenny nodded slowly. “The feeling is allowed. Always. But some of the things we do with it aren’t.”
Scarlett thought about that.
“So I’m allowed to feel angry. I’m just not allowed to scare Pudding.”
“Exactly,” said Lenny. “What could you do with the angry feeling instead, next time?”
Scarlett thought hard. “Maybe... stomp my feet? Or squeeze a cushion really hard?”
“Both excellent ideas,” said Lenny.
Scarlett looked over at Pudding, still hovering by the door.
“I’m sorry I shouted at you,” she said. “I was angry about the tower. Not about you.”
Pudding’s tail gave a small, hopeful wag.
That night, Scarlett rebuilt the tower.
It didn’t take as long the second time.
And when it wobbled — just slightly — she took a breath instead of a shout.
🫶 Dream big dreams.