"Momma, I want a horse," she said. "A real horse."
"Oh, really?" I responded. It wasn't that I didn't quite believe her, but well, I didn't quite believe her. The kid likes animals and all, but I can't imagine her actually touching a horse unless she were dressed in an airtight spacesuit and had arms that were twenty-feet long. No, make that forty-feet long.
"Can I call Daddy and ask him for a horse?" she asked.
It was an interesting choice of words. I realized she hadn't asked me for anything, but rather, stated that she wanted it and then was attempting to go around me as she sought out permission. "Why ask Daddy and not me?" I asked, calling her out on the sneaky shenanigans.
"You'll say, 'No," she said quickly. "Can I call Daddy?" she repeated.
I loved that she assumed I would say, "No." LOVED. I mean, I absolutely would have shot down her dreams of sticking a real horse somewhere, but the fact that she thought she could get around me by getting her father on her side? HILARIOUS!
"Where would you put a horse?" I asked.
"The yard," she replied. "I could build a barn for the horse and it could live in our yard."
"Oh, really?" I asked.
"Yeah. I'll take care of the horse and ride it and pet it and give it hay and everything!" she excitedly rambled. "Can I call Daddy now?"
"Sure," I told her as I handed her the phone. She knows how to find the phone number and give him a call, so I anxiously awaited the serious squirm-a-thon that was to come.
You see, Mr. Husband cannot tell that child, "No." He just can't. I'm not sure if it is written into the Daddy to a Girl By-Laws or what, but he is putty in her hands. And, yet, this was one request that he couldn't just make good on. It wasn't a simple thing like letting her watch too much TV or eat a snack or whatever. He truly had no choice but to turn her down.
"Hi, Daddy!" she said as he apparently answered the phone. Never one to beat-around-the-bush, she followed up immediately with, "Can I get a real horse? Please?"
I would pay huge money to have gotten to hear his reply, and to have seen his face. Her response told a tale, but I bet the whole story was even better than what I can imagine. I imagine there was some uncomfortable hemming and hawing, and I know for a fact there was an amused little chuckle. I know that part because, through tears, Alexis told me so.
"Daddy laughed at me," she wailed as she tried to hand me the phone. The child has an amazing sense of humor, but when she's not trying to be funny, she positively hates to be laughed at. It crushes her heart and sends her into hysterics every single time.
She continued to sob for several minutes, completely oblivious to the fact that her father had never actually answered her question. She was so wrapped up in being over-sensitive to a few chuckles that she even managed to forget why she was upset. I would have reminded her, but I'm hoping she remembers on her own sometime when we're all in a room together.
I want to watch Mr. Husband squirm as he tries to figure out a way to keep her smiling.
