Yesterday morning, the first words that issued from Mini Seymour’s mouth were, “Daddy, I want a new pony.”
“But you don’t have an old pony, dear”, said I. Daddy was not there.
She’s referring to Peanuts, who is my friend’s Shetland. Mini Seymour used to ride him occasionally. Peanuts has a mind of his own, like she does. And therefore he is out of favour. (He threw her off. Twice. I think the feelings may be mutual.)
Impressed (as we all were) by Big Seymour’s fabulous new log store, Mini persisted. “Daddy can build a little barn and my pony can live in there.”
“But what would it eat?” I asked her.
“We will leave the “barn” with no floor so the pony can eat the grass, and we can chuck hay in.”
I started to protest and list all the animal rights issues here, not to mention the toll it would take on my lawn. Instead, I held my tongue. It was too early for one of Mini’s tantrums.
“Ok,” I said, “ask Daddy. “Write him a letter, stating all of the reasons above.”
So she did. Kind of.
(We are working on her spelling.)
*As a little quiz, I will leave the blocked-out words to your own imagination. There may be a prize for the best suggestion.
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