Last night, I had only a limited window between the end of work and date night with the boy. I sprinted to the barn, grabbed grooming tools, and decided to do a really thorough, end to end curry.
I was capital-L-lazy, and unbuckled the surcingles on Tristan’s blanket, and folded it up over his shoulders while I curried away along his back and his haunches. We were both pretty pleased with life: it was snowing outside, which meant everything was quiet and still and muffled. He loosened and relaxed and chomped away on his hay.
Then he put his head down in just the right way and the entire blanket slid forward onto his head.
He picked his head straight up, and the ENTIRE blanket was covering from about mid-neck to well past his nose, still folded over. A heavyweight blanket, that was already one size too large for him
He just stood there. He was clearly nervous, but he stood like a rock.
I reached forward and slid the blanket back onto his body – thankfully it hadn’t gotten twisted. He turned his head around to look at me, all “well THAT was stupid, MOM.” He blew out. He put his head back down and went back to eating his hay.