Having grown up (for the most part) in the mid-Midwest, I honestly can't remember a time when I didn't feel comfortable on horseback; I'm always surprised to hear people profess a fear of horses and equestrianism. Admittedly, while I also can't quite fathom plenty of common phobias, I do nurse an embarrassing arachnophobia brought on by a childhood encounter with a nasty brown recluse bite. Happily, my fear doesn't extend to tarantulas or scorpions, or I might never sleep at home again. (The black widows are another matter; I've been known to go after them with a lighter and a can of hairspray, so by this point, any animosity is probably mutual.) But horses are just fine by me, and I've recently wondered how The Child might feel about them. The Child is remarkably fearless, aside from an unaccountable early fear of the duckie-shaped bathtub faucet cover, and even that passed fairly quickly. Ditto for dogs, cats, people in hats, fire, storms, scissors and plenty of other common toddler hangups. So, when the chance for a $5 pony ride came today, we figured "why the heck not?" After all, The Child had just cheerfully put up with a stampede of crazed fawns in the petting zoo, so clearly there isn't any squeamishness regarding large, hoofed animals. Sure enough, when DH hoisted The Child into a pint-sized western saddle, It grabbed the saddle horn as though born to it, and was led off without a backward glance. Like, literally- I couldn't even snap a pic until The Child was headed back towards the fence. Kid might well have continued on out of sight if the teenage pony-wrangler hadn't had the lead rope. (*sigh*) I caught The Child a few months ago attempting to break and run for the elevator in a very large, unfamiliar public building...I caught up just as a rather puzzled security guard came out to investigate. The Child had darted around the corner and pushed the "down" button with such confidence that the guard was actually unsure as to whether he was seeing a rogue toddler or a little person in a big hurry. I never thought I'd be wishing for a slightly more anxious-minded offspring, but then, parenthood is full of surprises, right?
The Child was equally unfazed by the enormous pair of lions, (were they always so huge?! I haven't been that close to lions for years...I thought things were supposed to look smaller once you grew up!) one of whom walked right up to the fence and appeared to beg for attention like a needy kitten. It followed us all the way to the end of the fence, grunting and huffing, and even gave a weak roar when we walked away. I'm still unsure if it wanted to eat The Child, or have its ears scratched. I'm leaning towards the latter, but it wasn't worth my fingers to know for sure. I also apparently forgot just how ridiculous/disconcerting/disturbing ostriches are up close; those eyes look so fake! Like the eyes of a Vargas pinup girl, or one of those kiddie beauty queens. And all those crazy, sumptuous feathers...like the Mae Wests of the avian kingdom!
One thing I personally find difficult whenever I'm with The Child in a "family" venue is turning off my "docent" self. The farm had a little enclosed duckling area, and every foot or so was a sign reading "touch gently. Do not pick us up!" Of course, two girls were snatching up every poor duckling they could catch; the little things were "peep-peep"-ing desperately as the girls' parents looked on. Of course, I'm glaring and biting my tongue to avoid telling off both girls AND so-called parents, "Hey kid- can you read? Oh, excuse me, I didn't realize your entire freaking family is illiterate!! Why don't you go home and kill your own pets, you horrid little sadists!" And so on. Later we saw a giant wild turkey nest with 15 eggs...I'm sure those little she-monsters would've happily crushed them underfoot if they hadn't been so absorbed with their duckling-murder. I console myself by thinking that, being illiterate, stupid and covered with baby fat, they bungled into the alligator enclosure and learned an important lesson in compliance. I'm just kidding, of course. Totally.
In Summation:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Punzp4ektVM
"fear of the duckie-shaped bathtub faucet cover"
ReplyDeleteWell yeah. Naturally. I suspect that thing would freak me out, even as a relatively unflappable man in his 30s.
I for one, am glad that the Child is so fearless... just think of the potential savings in psychotherapy alone! Whether that is offset by emergency room visits, god forbid, remains to be seen.