Our Tiny Nightmares | An ode to the ponies of our youth …

Happy Wednesday! The first part of the week is over, it’s time to celebrate the fact that the weekend is just around the corner! I thought I’d brighten the hump day mood with a creative attempt at humour. I’m short, and as a result in my younger years was often designated “pony rider” well after I’d grown out of my pony riding days (the disadvantage to riding with and working with lots of very tall people). Recently, I found myself reflecting on all those slightly crazy little fuzzballs I encountered (who’ve kicked me, stomped on my toes, bit me, ran away with me, tried to buck me off … etc.) and realized, while I wasn’t a fan at the time, I secretly loved those little terrors and they taught me a lot about riding (including how to stay on, and that fast little ponies are terrifying). To be truthful (and because hindsight is 20/20), I wouldn’t trade those experiences for the world.

So here’s a little mid-week silliness as I wax poetic about those little pony terrors (I’m sure some of you can relate).

Be grateful for the crazy … an ode to the ponies of our childhood

Our tiny nightmares

They’re tiny and tart,
almost always ready to dart;
often plump,
and always ready and happy …
to dump you on your rump.

They taught us to fly,
though not necessarily over fences.
And how to hold on tight,
…even if it was a painful lesson.

They smashed toes,
bit our fingers,
and sometimes crushed dreams,
(Though only momentarily …).

They were slow and dull when you wanted fast;
And speedsters when you wanted to relax.

Got food? They come running,
Come without? they’d GO running.

We cursed them out loud for every fall and frustration,
labelled them terrors and monsters,
and rarely understood their importance.

Despite the on simple fact that though they were naughty…
those ponies shaped our formative riding years (young or old)/

These great Jedi masters who taught us to be bold.
They made us better riders (even if it sometimes hurt).
And let’s face it, no matter how curt,
sour or snotty,
when given a choice we’d always pick naughty.
Despite all of their terrors,
the trials and tribulations;
for those tiny terrors we (secretly) had the greatest appreciation.

And while we may have outgrown them,
or simply moved on;
they’ll never (no not ever) truly be gone.

So here’s to the ponies who taught us to ride,
taught us to be strong, confident (and how to stay alive).
You may have muddied our clothes and taught us to swear,
but we’d never once dare …
to trade your harsh life  lessons.
Because without you we’d never have learned this important lesson:
To stray true and strong and strive for our goals, and never,
not ever,
give up our dreams.

(No matter how much mud we must scrub from our jeans).



One of the most devious (and still one of my favorite) nightmare ponies of my younger years.

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