Today we went to a regional park with my friend L and her son, J, who is three days younger than Sawyer, and her 6 month-old baby. The park has a train ride, a small zoo, a playground and, if that all wasn't enough, pony rides!
Sawyer was very diligent about eating all his lunch (after he'd gone on the train ride and played at the playground) so his reward was a pony ride.
The catch is the parent has to lead the horse around the teeny corral, which wouldn't be bad if my other arm wasn't supporting a 25-plus pound girl. Sawyer was very excited about the whole adventure and ran over to his pony.
Turns out, his name was Freddy. Sawyer had to wait his turn while J got strapped into his saddle and L led him out. This is what Sawyer had to say while waiting:
"Mommy? Freddy is sad."
"Why is Freddy sad?"
"Because he wants me to ride him."
And once Sawyer was strapped in, he announced that Freddy was, now, quite happy. Unlike Mommy, who hoped that Freddy was a burner on the horse path but found out that he is slower than the dirt on which he walked. By the end, my shoulder was two inches lower from toting Sage - who likes to Baaa like a horse (don't ask).
"Mommy, Freddy is really sweet. I'm having a great time."
That made it all worth it.
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