The Girl Child spoke early. And often. But above all else, she spoke early. Somewhat like me, my aunt has told me. Anyway, she spoke her first real words at almost exactly six months old. I came in to pick her up from her crib and she looked at me with those huge, astonishingly blue eyes, and said: "Hi, Dada. Dada, hi!"

Boom. I was blown away. I looked at this little creature and said, "My sweet, Pappa is going to buy you a horse!"

Well, I should have been more careful. I have not bought her a horse. No, I have leased her a pony. A lovely little strawberry-roan pony who jumps like a big guy and who eats while we sleep (which is expensive). The Girl Child thought it was a strawberry-ROME, by the way, but I felt I had to correct that cute little misunderstanding.

So, we have acquired a pony. It is, if you were wondering, expensive to lease a good pony for a year. Thousands of dollars expensive. But that's ok, I don't think that she'll miss much by not going to college.

We have also, by the way, acquired a tack box to keep her boots and hat and gloves and chaps and half chaps and crop and grooming stuff and spurs and it keeps on going and going. This box was a gift from her riding instructor who just got a new tack box. She gave her old tack box, a gift to her from her mother when she was young, to the Girl Child. It has, as you might think, huge sentimental value and we are really touched.

So, if you see me at a horse show and I have a sort of pinched expression on my face, that's because I now lease a pony.

I never should have said anything when she was 6 months old. A lesson to you all, I expect.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:08 AM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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