I took a break from editing the novel I’d wanted to finish (by this morning — ah, well) to take Pea to Audubon, because days spent in the upper 60s/lower 70s are perfect hiking weather IMHO. While we were there, we found a group of girls (and one mom) doing an informal outdoor camp. Pea did the following things:

  • crossed a creek by walking on the rocks (admittedly, this is not much more than a trickle).
  • walked down the creek with other girls to look at the remnants of a beaver dam — without me.
  • hiked out of sight of me for about 10 minutes. (OK, out of sight for her. I could see the pink through the trees.)
  • Walked over the creek on a log.
  • Climbed a tree.
  • Slipped and fell and got muddy and was OK with it.
  • Ran up and down trails.

This sounds like normal kid stuff, but this is the child who used to scream on hikes because plants were touching her (as of 6 months ago), who freaked the hell out every time we saw a slug as recently as a couple of months ago (In this state? Insanity-making), and who couldn’t handle even being wet, let alone wet and dirty, without stripping off all of her clothes.

You have no idea how much work went into making this day possible, how many times I carried her screaming out of the forest (sorry, other hikers), how many times we had to calm her down in public because she spilled ice water on herself. Once I even touched a leopard slug to show her it wasn’t scary. Ew…

So all that was awesome.

And then, about fifteen minutes ago, I got the call that Pea is in at the school I really, really wanted her to get into. Outdoors-oriented — it was my first choice in the charter lottery, and the only one we made it into the top 10 on the wait list.

Halle-fucking-lujah!