Hey there! Little Pigeon, the first baby goat, is going on a very special field trip. There is a small part of me that is jealous, because she is going to hang out at a preschool with human children and I have always wanted to go hang out at a preschool with human children. There is a bigger part of me that realizes that giving three dozen pony rides would be a little bit more work than giving one or two pony rides as is my usual habit.
I will come back tomorrow with photos from Pigeon's outing, but today I will leave you this: photographic proof that I, too, am fun for preschoolers.
There are a couple of reasons why I, Fenway Bartholomule, am a superior mount for pony rides. The first and most obvious reason is that I am beautiful. My physical appearance lends to the thrill of the ride, creating memories that last a lifetime. What little girl does not dream of a beautiful steed? What boy does not dream of his own mighty charger? I make dreams come true.
I am also reliable. My reliability as a child's mount hinges on two qualities: my obedience to FarmWife's spoken commands and my sensible F.E.A.R.R. response to startling apparitions. Since I rarely spook and since, when I do, it is with frozen feet and a focused gaze, I can be trusted not to do any unseating of my rider in the case of the Unexpected.
As far as my behavior under normal circumstances—the spook-free Fenway that you know and love—I am predictable then, too. When it comes to directing my actions, my little rider can have the conceit of full control. I were to take a notion to, for instance, meander towards a tastier but unauthorized grass patch, I might be stopped in my tracks by the merest look from FarmWife. My little rider could utter a weak "whoa" and see immediate results, were the nearby FarmWife to make a simultaneous gesture of the same meaning. Neat trick, thinks Kiddo. And voila! A lifetime love of riding is born. Thanks to me, Fenway Bartholomule.