Warmer Weather

Yesterday, we had a beautiful day. It is hard to believe it is February! We took a drive to Simpsonville with our horse trailer and Jorgen to a horse farm. There, Lauren met some people to practice for her upcoming Parelli clinic. The farm and arena were beautiful, and the people kind.

We asked Cat, the owner, if it were possible to make a living "horse farming". She replied that you could, but not the way she does it. She has a soft heart, and takes in many rescues. These eat (literally) the profits. The only way to make money, she thought, was to take problem horses and turn them around for owners or help to fix their problems. Parelli training is one way to do that. She tried hard to get us interested in several of her rescues but we escaped.

Again, today, it is warm. So much so that for days, Wm has been asking if he could fill his kiddie pool. To him, it was warm outside, and he could not understand why he could not fill it and go swimming. He's been asking for sometime, even before it got warm. We've discussed that it's winter, next is Spring, then Summer and then you can go swimming. (It's not like he doesn't get to "swim" as we have a hot tub.) Anyway, I finally decided to allow him to try it, as it was the only way to prove to him that it was too cold. He filled the pool, stripped to his underwear, and put one foot in. "It's tooooo COLD!" he said. End of discussion.

We went to the preschool hour at the library this morning. He participated this time and seemed to enjoy it, unlike last week. He told me that last week "I was miserable, but I like it now". I guess he's getting used to group settings. He made Daddy a card there that he asked me to inscribe, "Dear Daddy, You have to put all your tools away on a shelf by yourself." Don't rightly know what that's about. He drew a bridge on the front, his first real depiction of an object that was not a person.

This afternoon, Lauren had a marathon piano lesson. They are getting so long, Will and I pop over to McD's playplace. A boy was there up in the tubes, refusing to come down though his "Papa" or "Poppa" implored him to come so they could leave. I could not tell if the man was dad or grandpa, and these days you don't ask. Of which I am glad, so that I'm not asked. Anyway, Poppa wasn't going up in the tubes to retrieve Junior because Poppa's belly would not allow it. I have to give the guy credit: he didn't raise his voice or threaten.

Myself, I tired of "Junior" totally ignoring Poppa, and Poppa's constant pleading, and I offered to go after him. "Would you please?" the poor man asked. "Oh, I'd be grateful." Well, I'm small and easily go through the tubes, so I found Junior and in a firm voice said, "Junior, you're leaving. Head for the slide." I revelled in my adult voice and authority. It was kind of fun. Junior moved quickly to the slide and Poppa took him home. Those playplaces, a hotbed of anarchy.