I never had pony fever. Don't get me wrong, I liked plenty of girl things; stickers and Hello Kitty and Barbies and Strawberry Shortcakes and the like. But horses? Ponies? They just seemed like it would be a bit of a mess and you might get stepped on. Lucky of us, Aunt Kathy has the pony fever. So we took a ride to celebrate an anniversary and got a pony ride to boot.
Riding a pony is serious stuff. My favorite part of the picture is her little fingers on the grabber thingie (look, I said I didn't have pony fever, did you really expect that I would know the proper names for parts of the saddle?) perfectly laced together. She looks so sweetly happy up there. Like she would never yell at a poor, helpless teenager who stepped on her pile of dirt and then demand he help her fix it while pointing with her insistent little index finger. Or, never, ever, would she climb up on your lap and steal your cookie; not that you would mind if she did because you're the Dad who buys her a second pony ride every time we go to the zoo.
No, not our girl. She'd never be so sassy. She just looks at you and says, 'Mama, you bein' a punk.'