Building a rocking horse
Some 10 months ago I documented an insanely proud moment on my FB timeline…
” …after coming home from work and getting groceries, I bathed Kay, fed Kay, fed Babs, rocked Babs to sleep, cuddled Kay to sleep, then decided to embark on assembling Babs’ birthday present whilst hubby remained late at a work meeting that finally only ended at 950pm. After opening the box, realized there were no instructions (!), so followed the photo on the box and managed to finish assembly in less than an hour! *gives self multiple pats on back*”
|Accomplished with just the humble allen key
For months I felt that all my efforts were wasted, since Babs didn’t show any affinity for the horse. I’d plonk her in, only for her to wriggle out again with scarcely a rock. The hubs had even suggested giving the rocking horse away since no one seemed to be playing much with it and it was ‘taking up space’. My masterpiece! Given away when it had hardly been played with ?! No way Hosea.
So I felt immensely gratified when Babs clambered up on it recently and rocked with wild abandon. Age had come to the rescue once again. She “matured” into the role! Of rabid horse rider! Whooo hoo! Or rather, Yeeeee Har!