Cupcake

“I Went to Get Hay and a Pony.”

(The Husband comes down to the barn looking for me.)
The Husband: “Where have you been? I got a little worried when I came home. Both you and Princess Winnifred (my truck) were gone.”
Me: “Falcon (my dear friend) and I went to go get hay and a pony.”
The Husband: “Fantastic! How much was it per bale? Wait a minute—did you say you also got a pony?!”
Me: “Yup.”
The Husband: “Where?!”
Me: “He’s here in the aisle, why?”
The Husband: “I want to meet him! I got a pony!”

My friend Stephanie’s son, Hani, and I used to play-fight over Flower.

“My pony!” I’d say.

“MY pony!” he’d say.

We had such fun. Back and forth, forth and back. Then, the unthinkable happened and I had to make a decision every horse owner dreads.

Flower’s gone. The hurt we feel is only because all the love we have for Flower has nowhere to go.

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Hani’s birthday is today. He asked me if I could get him a horse to jump out of a cake. He said he’d eat the frosting even after it touched a horse.

I can’t give him a cake like that. It’s just not realistic. It’s shedding season so there would be horsehair everywhere. I also don’t have an oven that big. Then there’s “which horse would be fine in the oven at 375F for 30-40 minutes?” When I asked my herd, I didn’t have a single taker. They all rode off into the sunset.

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So I can’t get Hani a horse that jumps out of a cake.

But I did buy a pony and I named him Cupcake.

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Happy Birthday, Hani. You are loved. Happy Gotcha day, Cupcake. You will be more loved than you ever dreamed.

 

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