Most of you who know me understand that children are not a part of my day to day life. As a whole children orbit me with the same frequency and comfort of a urinary tract infection. That being said it appears that I am not wholly immune to their charms for today a little girl twisted my grizzled old features into a semblance of a smile. Perhaps the day that I have long been forewarned is truly imminent and I will open my curtains, stare out into the morning sunlight and want a babe at my breast.
Or maybe this kid was just super cute for a moment.
Anywho, as I was walking out to the ring I passed a mother and daughter. The little girl was about two feet high and not very steady on her feet. I am not sure how old that makes her. But she could walk and carry parcels, as she was holding in her hands a bag of baby carrots as one would buy at the store.
She walked up to the first of the paddocks. The horse stood around two feet away with his head over the top rung of his panel, gazing sleepily out into the distance. The girl pulled a baby carrot out of the bag and threw it as hard as she could into the pen, which meant it barely cleared the perimeter. The carrot rolled three to four inches into the paddock and came to a stop, covered in grime. The girl stared down at the carrot for a moment and back up at the horse and pointed at her treat.
The horse had not noticed that she was an inhabitant of his same reality and continued to gaze into middle distance. There was a moment of silence and the girl continued to point with an intensity to her expression that belied her years (I am assuming she has had multiple years under her belt at least) and the horse continued to droop his eyes. Finally I laughed and pointed out the situation to the mother, who then picked up the carrot and fed it to the surprised chestnut by hand.
Who knew that watching this girl point a finger the size of a bay shrimp at filth covered carrot while staring at a completely ignorant horse would make my day?
I suppose this is what aging becomes. Soon I will grow to love floral patterns and sensible shoes. The march of time is inevitable.
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