"Can I Ride Pwince?"

So we sort of thought, rather naively of course, that bringing Caroline out to Elgin, where my in-laws live and keep a herd of horses, last Saturday for a pony ride would give her the desired fix, and possibly quell the insistent fires of her longing for horsie rides. Silly us. She is now asking us several times a day, "Can I ride Pwince?" "Where's Pwince?" "Is he in the bawn?" "Where's his bwush?" (She got to watch her cousin groom the pony before the ride.) Unfortunately, the concept of "Saturday" is hard for an almost two-year-old to grasp. So, we'll just lather, rinse, and repeat for the next five days!

Also on that note, we were discussing in the van on Sunday morning the idea Ian and Oscar had about getting her some small Breyer horses for her upcoming birthday. All I said was "we could get her a couple Breyers," not even mentioning what they were, and for the rest of the ride it was "I want a couple BWEYERS!"

She sort of reminds me of Ian at that age, when he was all about Thomas the Tank Engine. Eliza has a different temperament, and I don't think she's ever had a real obsession. Caroline's intensity, however, is mercifully somewhat modulated. That is, except when it's 8:30 p.m. and after an hour of our best efforts, she is hysterically overtired and is indicating, with not the slightest hint of modulation, that she does NOT want to go to sleep (have I ever told you how much I despise Daylight Savings Time?)