My son Bobby, 13, learns the
fine art of grooming on Twilight
Nothing makes me happier than horse time with my son or daughter. Bobby confirmed this evening that he will be my groom for the Prix. The thought of it makes me inexplicably happy for some reason.
He should be plenty strong and capable by the time I’m ready for the prix, no doubt with years of practice and training under his belt. Hopefully he’ll be living at home still…
I hope to make a rider out of him, too. “Grooms have to know how to ride,” I explain, “to warm up and cool down the horses for their riders,” he nodded in agreement as if to say “no problem Mom, piece of cake.”
Ignorance seems to run in the family. But you know what they say, ignorance is bliss…
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