Just horsing around

My kids are into horses. Really into horses. Especially Gibson, who at the ripe old age of three, somehow managed to muster up all the courage he could find in his little body to actually reach out and touch one. I dare say that it must have been a religious experience for him (since he was such an incredible chicken) to actually make contact with such a huge beast, because since then, well..., the child simply can not get enough. Which is very convenient for us, since we live on a quarter of an acre in a subdivision in Charlotte. Horses don't need much room, right? And from what I understand, they don't cost much either. Which is also convenient for us since there are months when I cross my fingers and hope that neither of the boys will be needing shoes.

All sarcasm aside, what is, in fact, convenient for us is that Uncle Ryan works for (and due to the fact that they just sold their house, currently lives at) a camp in the mountains. A camp that has horses! Lots of 'em. What's also convenient for us is the fact that western North Carolina is the perfect place for a weekend getaway! Hooray! So last weekend we packed up our little Saturn, and headed that way for 2 and a half days of chillin'. The grown up boys had big plans of their own for the weekend -- camping, mountain biking, and scotch drinking -- so we (my sister-in-law and I) truly did not lay eyes on them from Friday evening until late afternoon on Sunday. Which was perfectly fine, because like I said, we had horses at our disposal. Lots of 'em.

This could turn into a long story considering we did so many fun things over the weekend, but for the sake of everyone's sanity, I'll just go ahead and whittle it down to what I consider to be the best part. Or at least what I'd consider to be the most entertaining. So, fast forward to Saturday afternoon when I am standing at the gate to the horse pasture with both my boys and one of my nephews -- ages 5, 3 and 3 respectively. All the boys were hanging on the gate petting a horse who had come over to get a little lovin'. Well, actually I think he'd initially had high hopes for some chow, but had good-naturedly submitted to some friendly pats instead. It must have been a relaxing experience for Mr. Horse -- that of having 3 small children "gently" patting him all over the face -- because he refused to leave. And let's just say that it became clear that Mr. Horse was....... well........ let's just say it was obvious he was a "Mr."

Here is the conversation that followed, once the boys realized that the horse was.......ummm.........very "relaxed":

"Oooooooooooooooo! He's pooping!"
"Is he pooping?"
"No he's not! I think that's his wiener!"
"Oh my gosh! Is that his wiener?!"
"That's a BIG wiener!"
"No, that's a really BIG wiener!!"
"Can you see how big his wiener is?!?"
"Look at that wiener!!!!"
"He has a big wiener!!!!"

And so on and so forth while my younger sister-in-law (pregnant with her first child -- a boy, God love her) and I stood looking at each other wondering how long two 3 year olds and a 5 year old can discuss the size of a horse's wiener. Turns out, a long, long time...........