Extreme strolling

Yesterday Dutch and I went for a walk. We had to leave Cook home alone with the computer for a while so he could work on a school project, and I needed to take some photos of the wildlife refuge for a school project of my own (really), so I decided we would walk the length of the park, as a roundabout way to get to the commercial area about a mile south of us. (A commercial area containing two toystores and the library, which was key for luring Dutch to come with me.)
As usual, Dutch was game about walking in the park - I assigned her to "scout" nice views and signs of spring, so she trotted ahead and duly reported all interesting features and events.
Unexpected bird calls = scary.

We were having a lovely time until we found a little staircase leading up to a sketchy-looking trail up a steep slope (to the mortuary, which is one story high at the top of the bluff, and a spooky, fortress-like five stories high at the bottom of the bluff). Because my school project addresses connectivity and walking-paths, I decided that we should hike up the trail. We did, past the base of the mortuary, the trash, the broken beer bottles, the rusty metal scraps with sharp edges... Dutch started to cry when we were half way up, at the exact same time that I realized that I had made a Mistake. It would have been worse to go back down at that point, so I kind of half-shoved her up the rest of the way, trying to speak calmly and cheerfully while silently freaking out about the fact that I was struggling to find secure footing for myself while propelling my large, frightened child up a muddy cliff studded with puncture-wound hazards.

But we made it. No problem. We were both a little shaky, though, and Dutch refused to eat her snack until we were half a mile away from the Cliffs of Doom.

The impressive part, though, is that Dutch walked three miles and climbed a minor mountain in sequinned pink mary-jane-style shoes. (They're a little the worse for wear.)