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Play the Pony

by verdemama on June 10, 2010

It kills me to see my baby hurt. I’m actually not talking about Orion this time—I’m talking about the vintage rocking horse he’s riding. I got it for my second birthday, and it was my favorite toy of those early years. I was thrilled at the prospect of passing the now 30-something year old toy down to my son, except… well, he’s not exactly gentle with it.

He loves riding it—he has no problem climbing up on it and rocking the bejezus out of it. But what’s funny is—us being city folk and all—he doesn’t really know what a horse is. He’s seen them in books, but he’s yet to see one in real life. So… he thinks it’s like a car, which is still his number one obsession. He’s been taking his car keys and stabbing them in the horsie’s googly bubble eye, in essence “starting” it up.

It’s actually pretty hilarious, watching him “start” the horse with a key in its eyeball. But I can’t help but wince a little when he does it. I keep promising the old girl a makeover—a little sanding, some new varnish. A day at the rocking horse spa, basically. And now perhaps a couple of new eyes, to boot.

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