Occasionally somebody will book their child in for a lesson at a clinic. My experience with kids is that until they develop past puberty they are largely passengers and don’t learn to become thinking horse people until after puberty. Therefore, when a little kid comes to a clinic I feel my mission is to fulfil three functions and give priority in this order:

keep them safe

make sure they have fun

teaching them something

I place a lot of emphasis on the kids having fun.

I’ll do things like call them the wrong name. Instead of using Olivia’s real name, I’ll call her Fred and when she corrects me I argue with her that her real name is actually Fred. This usually makes them laugh and think that I’m crazy.

I’ll ask them to ride past me and clap their hand to my hand as I hold it up. When they clap my hand I will let out a loud fart sound. Most kids roar with laughter and want to ride past me again and again to make me give the fart sound.

I tell them to chase me on their pony and take my hat off and put it on their head. We play chasing around the arena. I hear their giggles and their squeals when they manage to grab my hat.

They have fun. I know they are learning things, too, but mostly, they are having fun. I see the joy in their grinning faces. I see the happiness they get from riding their pony and listening to this very silly old man. I love it.

The fun the kids have is an innocent type of fun. There is no agenda except to have fun. The learning comes, but not from drilling exercises into them. Learning comes from doing stuff and from the fun.

And then one day, the little kids are not so little anymore. They have agendas. The kids want to learn to teach their horses to do stuff. They want to go on two-hour trail rides, jump over logs, teach their horse to stand still at the mounting block or take their horse to a competition.

This is when the passenger turns into a horse person.

This is when Olivia now thinks it is a sign of my addled brain when I call her Fred. This is when it’s no longer hysterically funny when she rides past me and I make a fart sound.

Somewhere along the journey to becoming a horse person the playful silliness of having fun with a pony turned into the serious business of being a horse person. It all changed. Of course, it has to change. But I can’t help feeling sad that Olivia no longer rolls her eyes and pulls a silly face when I call her Fred.

I wish I knew how to help Olivia find the same fun she felt at 8 years old in Olivia at 16, Olivia at 30, and Olivia at 60.

I love horses. In large part, I love them because they are fun. Being with them makes my day better. I hope we will all feel that way. If not, I question why we have them in our lives. They are hard work, expensive, and potentially dangerous. So they had better be fun to make it worthwhile. When horses stop being fun it’s time for me to re-think why I have them.

I hope, for all of you, that you feel the same excitement and joy of being with your horse as an 8 year old kid that I christened Fred.