Alexis and I planned our date in advance.  Burton would be out of town and my oldest granddaughter, then 6, would spend the night with me at our farmhouse in northern Michigan.  One catch: Alexis had never slept away from Camryn and Lindsay. As the date neared, Alexis’ feet grew colder.

After dinner  in town, Alexis looked worried.  “I don’t know, Gigi,” she said.  (Gigi is my grandma name.  It stands for Gorgeous Grandmother, in case you wondered.  I picked it out myself.)  “I’m nervous without my sisters.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” I said.  I don’t believe in pressure.  It generally backfires. “If you’re not comfortable, I’ll take you home.”

Her dark eyebrows pinched together.  “I can’t decide.”

We visited the Dairy Queen while she thought about it.  It was a warm summer night in northern Michigan.  Vanilla custard soon dripped down the cone and glazed Alexis’ chin.

“If you’re not ready, we’ll try another time,” I said.  “Please make up your mind soon so I don’t have to drive you back in the dark.”

She tossed out a wad of napkins and nodded.  “I made up my mind.  I’m coming.”

Alexis buckled the belt of her car seat in the back of my Jeep.  Amy, her mom, had packed her belongings in a Lululemon bag printed with affirmations.  Amy is a fitness buff and a fan of Lululemon athletic wear.  The bag sat on the floor at Alexis’ feet.   My intrepid passenger was quiet for a few minutes.  Then she spoke.

“Gigi, do you know what it says on the Lululemon bag?”  To my delight, Alexis was already an enthusiastic reader.

“No.  What?”

“Everyday do one thing that scares you.”

“Wow,” I said, feeling goosebumps rise on my arms.  “That’s a Godsign.”

At the farm we put together a jigsaw puzzle, then sat on the porch swing and sipped lemonade and read Dr. Seuss’ Oh, The Places You’ll Go!  (Which I consider a masterpiece of 20^th c. literature.  And when you’re in a Slump/you’re not in for much fun./  Unslumping yourself/is not easily done.  Among all the self-help books I’ve read, nothing has surpassed that simple, concise bit of wisdom.)   Alexis changed into her Dora the Explorer nightgown, brushed her teeth with her princess toothbrush, and snuggled in bed with her pink blanket.

I expected my house guest to come padding downstairs to my bedroom at least once that night.  I expected to have to convince her to return to bed.  But I didn’t hear a peep until morning.

For breakfast, we ate fresh baked, still warm cherry glazed donuts at nearby Friske Orchards farm market.   Alexis picked out fuzzy pocketbooks shaped like animals for herself and her two sisters.

On the way back to town, what she said popped goosebumps again.

“Do you know what I keep thinking, Gigi?  If I hadn’t slept over, I wouldn’t have gotten to do a puzzle with you or read on the swing or buy presents for my sisters.  I would have missed all that fun.”

Independence happens in baby steps.  Sharing them is the privilege of being a Gigi.