Young mother ponies up to face her greatest fear

My mother was a lover of many things. Motorcycles were not among them. This was a tough situation for a kid who was, himself, a lover of many things with motorcycles ranking near the top of the list.

From my earliest conscious inklings, anything with two wheels and a seat seemed to hold the key to unlimited adventure. The bicycle remains a foundational element of my being even today, but there was a time when the idea of going five times faster by adding a motor between my legs was pretty much all I could think about. In a play used successfully by parents of 10-year-olds since the beginning of cash currency, she said that if I earned the money on my own to buy a bike, then she’d allow it.

Oh, the dreams that just such a promise have quashed! That was not the case here. I set to work in a neighborhood filled with kindly old ladies and benevolent elders who had dreamed such dreams themselves. Eventually, after years of delivering newspapers, mowing lawns, cleaning gutters and shoveling walks, I’d saved up the critical mass necessary to hold Mom to her word. With great reservation Bunny made good on her promise. The greatest of moms do that kind of thing — move beyond their own personal bias to allow their kids the joy of experiencing new things.

While I’ve already observed my own daughter Charlotte displaying the characteristics of “the greatest of moms,” a recent situation proved her mettle even further.

Charlotte herself was a fearless child, save for one inexplicable and irrational abhorrence — miniature ponies. Neither her mother nor I could explain it, nor could Charlotte herself nail down the exact source of her disdain, but it was a fear nothing short of loathing that has carried on to this day. For years I’ve proven my own credentials as a caring, nurturing father by working to help Charlotte past her weirdness by sending her snapshots and videos of miniature horses whenever I encounter them. I also make sure to send birthday cards with stumpy ponies in dresses and party hats. Call it my own brand of shock therapy. It’s a dad thing.

Anyhow, the story at hand places our whole family at last week’s Wayne County Fair, where horses of every shape and size abound. Children of the suburbs, my grandsons, age 4 and 2, have had limited exposure to horses and hold no innate bias against them no matter what the size. It was inevitable that Max, the wildly adventurous junior of the pair, should wish to join in the fun when he witnessed others of his own vintage saddled and circling on the backs of stumpy, little ponies.

Swallowing her own misgivings to further ascend the ladder of parenting prowess, Charlotte and Max joined the queue, paid the cash and stepped off on the circular route that had the young boy beaming and his mother feigning a frightened smile as she walked alongside at maximum arm’s length from the beast. Grandma Bunny would have been proud.

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.