I've had a post in my head for two days, but by the time I drag myself to the computer at night, I am too tired to remember what I wanted to say.
Lame, I know, but the kids and I have been logging lots of time in the sun, fixing up our flower beds and transplanting a huge bucket of irises from my mother's garden. Hopefully the fact that I had to drill straight through bedrock to get them in the ground won't bode ill for their survival. The soil's a wee bit rocky here on the edge of Pennsylvania's Slate Belt.
Luckily, the lovely Cheryl hosts Way Back When-esday, so I can at least post something before 2012.
Francie, 3 years old
I think this can be considered documented proof of the beginning of Francie's devotion to all things equine. Look at that gleam of rabid love in her eye.
This picture was taken at her preschool, where apparently the administration determined that three year old children would not be fully educated until they got to dress up in tiny chaps and ten-gallons and sit astride the oldest, most sedated pony in eastern North Carolina.
Francie, as you can tell, adored the whole thing. The pony, the hat, the tiny guitar she got to strum while she was "riding" the pony. She almost had me file paperwork to change her name to Dale Evans.
The funny thing is that I have a picture of myself in kindergarten, riding the oldest, most sedated pony in all of eastern Pennsylvania. Maybe there was a whole East Coast Pony Photo circuit, who knows?
If I can find it, I'll put my own pony picture up, but until then, go see some more Wednesday nostalgia over at Twinfatuation.