2009

We open our presents on Christmas Eve, it’s a European Catholic thing. You have to open up those toys so you can hurry off to Midnight Mass at the local cathedral! We don’t go to Midnight Mass, but we have kept the tradition of opening presents early; it’s all about priorities, and clearly ours are in order.

This year when Viktor handed out the presents he whispered in my ear *you’re going to kill me when you see what I got Precocious*. He was right, I did want to kill him. I still do.

First, she unwrapped a halter. Then, a lead rope.

I think I was in denial until Precocious started screaming at the top of her lungs. She understood perfectly.

*Daddy, you bought me a horse! You got Reuben!*

Yes, daddy did in fact buy Reuben for Precocious.

Oh my.

We have a good friend who grew up on a ranch in small town Utah with horses. He couldn’t say goodbye to them when he moved to the *big city*, so he brought a handful of them to live in a pasture near his house. He’s been kind enough to let us ride his horses on a regular basis since Precocious was old enough to walk, and we all fell in love.

There was one horse in particular Precocious fell in love with, broke {taught him to tolerate humans on his back}, and nursed back to health after an injury. Reuben. Like the sandwich.

When our friend offered Reuben up for sale Viktor *had* to buy him. Precocious would be heartbroken otherwise.

Never mind the fact that I asked Santa for a horse every year for Christmas as soon as I was old enough to be cognizant of the animal. We don’t want Precocious to be heartbroken like I was.

We all love Reuben.

Especially me.

Merry Christmas to me, 25 years too late?

I’m trying not to think about the fact that we still don’t have a living room floor and we’re going to be feeding a pet that weighs several hundred pounds.

Ever heard the phrase *eats like a horse*? Me too. At least this one stays outside. For now.

{photos by Nicole Carman Photography}

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