"The Best Thing for the Inside of A Boy Is The Outside of A Horse" - Will Rogers

One of the nicest souvenirs from our visit to the woods last week was the confidence that Max brought home after spending three days with his best friend, Simi The Wonder Horse. The bond that he's formed with that Norwegian Fjord horse began before he was even two years old and has strengthened at each visit. Max becomes more confident, more loving, and um, more independent around his equine friend.

Simi seems rather indifferent about the little guy (just don't tell him that) because I think any real attraction for her comes in the form of food. Which is why I really like this horse. She's my kind and she's very good to my kid. And she's short and strong and doesn't move very fast. And she has dark roots in her mane. So, I guess we're practically separated at birth. No wonder he loves her. She reminds him of his mother.



On our first morning at camp, Max was a pretty getsited cowboy and his quick movements were making both the two legged and four legged members of our work party nervous. So Grandpa plopped Max onto Simi's back without a saddle and said "Stay", more to Max than to the horse. And they did. For over an hour until we were ready to head out. It was amazing. I could use one of those Simi's around here. Especially since we're practically sisters. We could borrow each other's clothes, and stay up watching "Law and Order" and argue over which is better chocolate, this or this. And she could watch over my kid and I'd never have to worry about what he's up to because he'd be sitting on her back eating his oatmeal or brushing his teeth.


Holdin' on tight

Max's natural ease around livestock did not come from my contributing DNA. Although I love animals, and some of my people are even what one might term "horse people" (in a very nice sort of way), I'm not a natural rider. I enjoy the peaceful rhythm of horseback riding, but I find it somewhat awkward and well, unstable.

Especially when doing things like this:

Consider that this photo was taken at a point on our ride where I felt comfortable getting my camera out of my pocket and riding with no hands on my saddle or reins. Because my other hand was on my CHILD. Yes, Sam rode on my lap.

This is important to know because about two hours into our three hour ride up the mountain on our first day at camp, my saddle slipped until it was perpendicular to the mule and parallel to the ground. Ever so slowly, I felt myself shifting down along the long side of my mule, Becky. A normal person would have grabbed onto the horse, or shifted back up onto it. But I was not a normal person. I was a mom with her baby on her lap and all I could think about was protecting his precious noggin and breaking his fall.

Which is exactly what my right rib is for, apparently. Breaking the fall of my child and then hurting like hell. After my backside met the mountain floor my primary concern was (a) making sure that Sam was ok, and (b) making sure that he'd stop crying for fear that he might spook any one of the four mules with us and thereby endanger Max, who was riding on Simi The Wonder Horse all by himself, with just his two dirty little hands wrapped around a saddle horn.

Mr. Wonderful and his father stepped right in and calmed Sam down by introducing him to the magical elixir called Gatorade for the first time, thereby ceasing all noise except for the gulp, gulp, gulp of a healthy, albeit shaken, toddler. And although I felt like I should have my NFL contract renewed into the eight figures after what my chest felt like, we got back on and rode up the mountain for another hour.

And you know what, it was worth it.