Very often I feel like I'm in some American after-school special where the moral of the story is see kids, what it's really like to have a baby. People at home nod wisely as the woman chooses trainers over pretty wedges when she's getting dressed in the morning and then inwardly high-fives herself later that day when they're vomited into by her 1 year old son.
Her heart beats faster as her son's fingers are enveloped for the first time by the velvety soft warmth of a pony's muzzle. He feeds a horse half his Nintje cracker when she's not watching. He's having the time of his life, she can't stop worrying about walking behind horses and him being kicked to death. Did I just see that horse's ears go back? Does it hate babies, shit we'd better move quick. Death by horse kick to the head. I can now add that to my list of ways I've imagined him being killed.
I can never forget that - my friend, also a mother to boys, saying I can't count the ways I've imagined his end. Oh, motherly paranoia, hi there again. Could we please just enjoy ourselves today? But, actually we did. Cal hung out with horses for the first time and it was grand. And then he had a lovely borreltje with his grandparents and aunt and uncle before he vomited all over me and it was time to go home.
Yep kids, that's what it's really like. It's equal parts wonder, horror and stickiness.
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Cal and I at the Hollandsche Manege, incidentally where his grandparents met for the first time!
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| Shitty i-Phone pictures of a really beautiful place to take kids |
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| The horses were great, but the tick-tock action was outstanding |
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| Pre-teen girls worshipping at the temple of pony love |
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| He's asleep and dinner looks like this and that's more than ok by me |
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