or just settle for the therapy.

Thanks to a recent trip to the fair with Papa, Meme, Uncle Chad, and Auntie Emily, and a day at farm with Grandma, Auntie Carrie, and Katelyn, Ava has settled on a new pet:

A bowl of three spotted goldfish, that is so last week. What’s in? A life size version of My Little Pony, minus the pink hair and flower tattoos.

“I really wish I could have a pony. Don’t you wish that I could have a pony, Mama?”

Of course I do. Who wouldn’t want a 200 pound pet that eats bushels of hay and grain? Or a pet that enjoys taking you for walks?

Because, really, if you think about it a 1500 square foot, second floor flat smack dab in the middle of a city is the perfect place to raise a pony!

And our neighbors down below are in the process of adopting a greyhound. Give or take a saddle, there really isn’t much difference.

After reviewing the potential living accommodations, dietary regimen, and grooming needs with my three-year-old, I was truly shocked that she didn’t pull out a clipboard of printouts to support her obviously researched game plan. I mean, she already has an abundance of plastic, purple My Little Pony combs, which she showed me upwards of ten times. So clearly she is ready for a true pony commitment.

That was until we got to the part of about the poop. Because as we know, Everybody Poops (and let me just say, that book is disgusting. I was about to link to it, but I just couldn’t do it).

“Ava, who is going to clean up the pony’s poop?”

Without blinking, Ava held up her hand and pointed directly at me.

“Oh, no I’m not. I’m not cleaning up the pony’s poop.”

“Daddy will.”

“Sweetie, Daddy does not like cleaning up poop. I think he hollered just about every time he changed a poopy diaper. He will certainly not clean up pony poop.”

“But Mama, my shovel isn’t big enough. I don’t have a big Shovel!”

A shovel. That’s what she said.

How she ascertained that one needs a pooper scooper is beyond me? But one thing is for certain, she has really thought this pony thing through.

Anyone out there want to stable a pony for Ava?

‘Cause as far as these two city-cats are concerned

hay is not for shoveling or eating for that matter. It’s for sitting on, while enjoying a six-piece polka band consisting solely of accordions!

Anyone else know of a my-fish-died-and-my-mama-won’t-buy-me-a-replacement-pony support group she can join?