There is a little trail that cuts over the hills from Bush Highway to the Phon D rec area on the Salt. No one ever takes it, its not something you would seek out to hike, or even share with others. I hit it a couple times a year as an alternative to Tower Trail or Wind Cave; its perfect to get a little workout, unleash the dog, and despite its distance is actually kinda hard: 1000 feet in 3 miles, over very steep and degraded jeep tracks.

G hiked most of the way in, with careful spotting and deposits into the backpack when i panicked on her behalf. G did amazingly well; all her skills and patience came to bear in almost 30 minutes of non-stop walking and concentration. The kid is fit, too! It made me so proud to see how much skill her tinyBrain has absorbed and her tinyBody has learned. But i constantly fret that her competency is only a stepping-stone from one short-lived safe haven to the next more dangerous challenge. And, like me who has tumbled 3 times on the Las Sendas staircase recently due to arrogance, she is getting downright cocky. While walking the downslope and holding our hands, she developed a tinyGame of purposely skidding, knowing Beckie and I would pull her up. How to convey to her that her parental bungee chords will not always be attached, especially when she is having fun? The walk was accompanied by tinyPlayByPlay and tinyColorComentary: “I’m ok! but my leg has ouchies. I gotta be careful. Rocks give me ouchies. look horses!!!” and so on.

Next day, she specifically requested we go to the Pink Park where she conquered one of the few remaining trials that has thwarted her: an arched set of monkeybars. I spotted her as she timidly approached the highest rungs. She wanted to step on my arm, but I kept telling her use the bar use the bar until she quit relying on my safety net. At the last rung, she needed prodding to lean forward and reach her leg out for the platform. Its a move of faith when you are only 3 feet tall and anticipating that you will fall forward safely onto solid ground, much like i felt hitting small jumps for the first time at NRA that morning. After two attempts she was climbing up and down like she’d been doing it for months; far more progress than I made dirt jumping.

I let her fall off the platform once – she didn’t actually fall, but was leaning back and let herself go on purpose, thinking but not certain I was going to catch her. A two foot drop on her back into sand with a resounding thud knocked the wind out of her, and hopefully some sense into her. You gotta play with fear and arrogance.