Horsefather

I tell Father that I want a dog. And by dog I mean horse. And by horse I mean one that will stand on two legs and become head of our household.

Mother chimes in. Says she's been wishing for a horsehusband for quite some time. She could mold him into the perfect companion.

In walks Little Brother who has been rooting for upheaval. Knows there is nothing like a guilty weekend father. He says, he too, would like the kind of parent that could give him pony rides for real.

That's when Father goes crazy, kicking the furniture with his legs, the floorboards go unsteady under his feet. "I have slaved for this family for ages!" he says. "I won't go down without a fight!"

"Easy boy," I tell him, " I was just talking." I walk over and stroke his head. I feed him a carrot. He calms right down.

"We'll just get a Chihuahua," I say. "Would you like that, boy?"

He bows his long neck in what looks like agreement. He is chomping on the carrot. He is scraping the floor with his foot.