Party on

                  Feisty Pants has hit a milestone this week.  She is going to go to her first event WITHOUT a parent.  It's the birthday party of a classmate and her nurse has kindly offered to take her.  All the kids and nurses are apparently going. FP attends a school within a school, so it's a small class.  Still, there will be a small herd of 10 year olds with wheelchairs and various medical equipment and nurses to accompany it all.  I don't know if the parents of the classmate has other kids, but they do have twin boys with special needs.  And, bless their slightly masochistic hearts, they are now inviting the whole class over for an afternoon.      

                 I have, in good conscience, warned the nurse. Feisty Pants is a houdini with a car seat.   For a kid who cannot walk or even swallow properly, she knows a thousand ways to escape from ANYTHING.   Car seats are a particular specialty of hers.   I suspect though that she will be an angel for this ride.  She has been looking forward to doing something "out OU, Ummy"     (without you, Mommy- said with her absolute best ten year old girl sneer) since the day she was born, according to her.     I, apparently, cramp her style.  Goo is almost as bad, but at least will let her get away with more.   And, I am not worried for her, her nurse is awesome will take good care of her.  No, I am worried about how she will behave without me.  She is quick to take advantage of someone thinking she is incapable of misbehavior.   She is small and cute and in a wheelchair, so if she looks sad or smiles prettily, people let her get away with all sorts of crap.  She is very, very aware of this.  Even if you are not. Especially if you are not.  Hopefully, going with people who know her very well should curb that tendency.

                To that end, she has picked out her favorite sparkly jeans and an awesome t-shirt.  She has instructed her assistants (us) to go fetch birthday presents with "cars on them".  She listened carefully to the rules. No pinching, no escaping, no smooching on boys.  (She actually told her father "nuh-uh, no telling" on that last rule. FP's way of saying "you ain't the boss of me.")  She has informed Hippie Pants that she has to come over and paint her nails before Saturday.  Because she has PLANS.  Plans that finally don't involve those annoying, ever present pains in the butt couple of old farts she is stuck dealing with all the time.   I guess I should be nervous letting my kid go out to the world without me. I am. A little. Mostly for the world though.  They don't know what's about to hit them.   Good luck World. Here she comes.