So we headed on down to the school, bought our tickets, and went out to the playground to see the ponies. Harper was all excited to see the ponies. Harper practically convulsed with joy when she got to pet the ponies. But when I put Harper on the pony. . . Was she able, I think she just might have crawled right back into the womb. She did not want to be stranded atop that beast of burden, no sir! All the farther we got with the pony was Harper sitting on it and clinging to me for dear life. Oh well. I didn't want to giver her a horse phobia, on top of the guitar phobia we recently conquered.
The pony man was kind enough to take our picture, and didn't even accept the tickets, since Harper didn't actually ride the pony. At least I have photo proof that I let her sit on the pony. Then, when she comes to me in a few years and tells me she will die if she can't have a pony, I will simply remind her that I offered to let her ride a pony once and she didn't like it.
I used the tickets we hadn't spent on the pony ride to have a clown make Harper a balloon shaped like a dog. She dismantled it on the way to the car. The last I saw of it, it was just a long balloon with eyes.
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