I learned to speak at around two years of age.
Now, you’d probably expect my first words to be some heartwarming “Mama” or “Papa” crap, right? Nope. Mine was a solid, dramatic “Ouch!”
Why? Because I fell flat on my face right as I was figuring out how to walk. Yep, my very first steps ever looked like a failed stunt, with me hitting the floor so hard I almost decided to quit and curl up in a fetal position forever.
But then came Mom, who had zero patience for my pity party.
“William Jake! On your feet now!” she practically barked, like I was some delinquent instead of a clumsy toddler. And believe me, when Mom yelled like that, it was no joke—a scary kind of authority that made you snap to attention. Luckily for me, she didn’t pull out this kind of firepower too often, but when she did
