The Princess has entered that magical little girl stage where the only thing she wants to do is have a horse. A big horse. One she can ride and hold on tight to as they jump over trees together. I remember this stage from my own childhood. Pictures of horses around my room, the fascination with "Misty of Chincoteague" and model Appaloosas chomping at play hay in the stables next to my Barbies.
For weeks, I've been trying to find a way for The Princess to actually get to a horse farm and have a chance to be up close and personal with these magnificent animals, but with the pregnancy and my own laziness, it wasn't happening. Luckily for her (and for me,) Kitty and BaPa picked up the slack and offered her some riding sessions at a local centre for her birthday this month.
So Saturday afternoon, she headed off with friends for her first time in the ring. She packed her bag with her boots and comfortable pants and went off with a twinkle in her eye and swing in her step. I don't think I'd seen her this excited since her friend's big birthday bash at the indoor playground.
Our friend said The Princess was wonderful at the centre. She had no fear and rode like a natural, albeit a natural with a runny nose. And then red and swollen eyes. A hacking coughing. An itching throat. And a fabulous rash under her chin.
It seems The Princess has inherited our allergies. I had hoped it might be the milder strain, the one only set off by furry cats of all colours and shapes, but no. It's horses. The big beautiful horses she's loving so much.
We dosed her up with an antihistamine and things seemed to calm down immediately. By late evening, her eyes looked normal and she only had a small wraspy cough left. Hubster and I apologized profusely about this lovely genetic trait, but The Princess' only concern is what medicine can she take before she goes back next weekend.
I'm hoping our doctor can prescribe a stronger antihistamine so that she can at least finish out the sessions before we have to break it to her that her dreams of being a jockey may well and truly be over at the tender age of 6.
If only there was such a thing as a hairless horse...