First tournament at the barn. In the evening someone asks me on the phone: “And did the child have fun?”
Well, as for me – I had great fun!!!
Oh, yeah, the child – hold on. I think so. A few years back, whenever I looked after the horse and the child was with me, the procedure was as follows:
+++“When can I ride?“+++“It’s been your turn for soooo long, Mom!” +++“Is it my turn already?“+++“It’s so booooring!“+++“So when is it my turn?”
(Above questions in an infinite loop)
OK, let’s finish up Prinz/Onkel/Mäxchen.
(20,30 minutes of walking, cleaning, discussing saddle pad colors)
„Now up you hop!“
(20, 30 SECONDS later)
„Mom, I’m done!“
Phew.
No, I will not turn into a soccer mom. No, she doesn’t want to and that’s it. No problem, I am totally relaxed about this. (Hello – now I do have a girl and she doesn’t want to ride???)
Now we have this scenario:
„Can’t Fee be my horse?“ (disapproval.)
„But the next foal is mine, right?“ (disapproval.)
„I want to braid these all by myself“ (sure.)
„Can I do the rising trot again?“ (wait a second.)
„When do I get my own pony?“
(I am super-stoked about it, but I quickly set up a catalogue of conditions that can only be met within the next two years, something along the lines of “Always remember to clean out the rabbit cage without a reminder”).
And then, oh the delight:
„You know, maybe I’d rather have a big horse instead. Because then I could keep it forever, even when I grow bigger.” (That’s MY girl!)
This is OVER now. (Yeah, yeah, yippie yeah!)