barnyard compromises

For me, a lot of this parenting gig has been a series of doing things I'd never thought I would ever do. There's been many. Clapping with glee at your infant drooling on the swings, finding some sort of entertainment in that Barney thing, and amassing inordinate amounts of stuff (even if none of it was purchased by you).

But then sometimes you find yourself doing something so egregious that you simply can't believe it was you. Yes, I know it's already obvious. I am talking about Pony Rides.

I mean, pony rides? I can't even drive by one of those places without feeling sick. Those poor ponies, ones who should be free to run and play and scamper are instead rendered joyless, consigned to walking around in a circle, the same circle, every single day.

It should be illegal.

We found ourselves yesterday at a place with the aforementioned social ill, and M was insane to ride one. Me ride horsey, me ride horsey, peeeas Mama peeeas! J and I glared at each other through sunglassed faces, already in a mental game of not it. I can't be a part of this, I say. To which J nods his head in solidarity. But M prevails, and we get in line.

The whole business left me feeling dirty. I feel like it's officially open season on my ethical standards. Next I'll be wearing mouse ears or something. May god help us all.

Please note that if you happen to be an owner, operator or fan of pony rides, that this is solely the personal opinion of the author (and for the love of god, everyone elses), i mean my opinion only.