Many of you already know that I hate horses. And by "hate" I mean "curl up in a ball and sob like a little girl in terror." And please for the love of chocolate do not give me a lecture about how horses are magnificent creatures and you looooove them and I should too because it will just piss me off and I will delete it and hate you just a little bit forevermore. Horses are not my thing. I don't like to be around them. I don't like to see them in movies. I don't like to see pictures. A couple of days ago, Chris drew a picture of a horse at Mia's request and it was a horrible picture, looked nothing at all like a horse, and I still had to go lie down and breathe deeply for a few minutes to recover. Horses = evil, end of discussion.
On Thursday, Mia was playing with her little stuffed horse (gasp, shudder, given to her by my own traitorous mother) and told me, apropos of nothing, that she wanted to ride a big horse. And I? Died. And then, because I am goddamned mother of the goddamned year, I took her to ride a horse. I'll be waiting over here for my trophy. Keening softly and eating my own hair in great, heaping handfuls.