One of Margaret’s uncles has been asking, since shortly after her birth, when we were going to get her up on a horse, and we have been not answering. Because it’s the sort of nonsensical question that doesn’t need an answer, and besides, he’s only doing it to be irritating, because he doesn’t like horses himself, and is merely trying to inflict the same sort of childhood trauma on the next generation that he himself had to suffer.
But I digress.
Margaret would probably think that riding a horse was a great idea, but we’re trying to keep her from real horses for a while, and sometimes this involves letting her ride concrete sheep.
Which she thinks is pretty fun.
Though sometimes, after riding on the sheep that she can get on all by herself, she does notice that there are bigger sheep in the sea.*
When this happens, she requests aid, which is usually promptly delivered.
And then, once on the big sheep, she decides that what she really wants is the phone.
Margarets are frequently fickle.
*Her knowledge of idioms and habitats is a bit limited right now, so it’s a perfectly understandable mistake to make.
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