If you happen to complain to your aunt you might get told "Well, why don't we find a stick and make one?"
"Can we do that, Mommy? Can we?"
"It just so happens," his mommy tells me, "that I have sticks set aside specifically to be making stick things with."
"Can we, Mommy?"
"We can." said his mommy and I.
Which is how I ended up inventing new stick horses yesterday.
Which led to a trail ride up to the blackberry patch.
Which is how I got streaks of blackberry "Indian paint" on my cheeks and a fern "feather" in my hair while a small cowboy whooped and rode his horse... that is, until the littlest cowgirl got tired and I became a horse myself.
"These aren't real horses you know." She said, waving her stick horse.
"They're not?"
"No. They're not. They're pretend horses." She was emphatic, serious, and so cute.
After a pause she added, "I'm getting tired."
Which is how I ended up carrying the littlest cowgirl -- and her horse -- all the way back down the mountain trail while the other two children ran ahead whooping and riding their new stick horses.
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