Foal me once…

The birth of a happy, healthy baby is always good news, and if that baby belongs to a friend, it’s an occasion to break out the champagne, which I was ready to do recently for my pal, but then I heard the details. I had almost popped the cork when he off-handedly mentioned his new baby girl just happened to weigh SEVENTY-SEVEN POUNDS!
I’m not one to judge others; people come in all shapes and sizes. But a seventy-seven pound baby?

I didn’t want to be rude, and subjects don’t come any touchier than a man’s children, so I smiled politely at my friend, all the while trying to imagine what kind of monster had been hatched in his household. And what about his poor wife!

I was picturing double-reinforced strollers, triple-girded cribs and buckets of baby formula when my friend asked if I wanted to see a photograph. I tried to think of a courteous way to decline, to no avail. As he casually pulled the photo from his wallet, I braced myself for the ogre-like creature I was expecting.
What did I see? A horse! His horse had given birth. He tricked me! I’m not upset, though; it’s a beautiful, appropriately-sized horse, and he has promised me a ride once she’s trained.

Baby Abra with her friend Jenna