Wesley's Opinion

One of the very first things that attracted me to Warren was our common ground in horses. Before I had even met him in person I had seen pictures of him riding and had been told he was a trainer. Soon after we first met we started riding together. I absolutely loved going to the arena or hitting the trail with Warren and have spent many, many hours riding with him. There has only been one major disagreement we've had in all of our dating, engagement and married life. It seems neither of us can come to a compromise on it.

Warren rides sorrels.

I ride paints.

I'm not sure how to emphasize this conflict enough for you to understand its importance. I mean...have you ever looked at the difference between sorrels and paints? Sorrels are so...........normal. I'm pretty sure there's like five sorrels to every colored horse in the world. Paints, on the other hand, are so unique. None of them are identical and they come in all colors and patterns, from black and whites to bay paints, buckskins, roans...there's tobianos, overos, toveros. The options for beauty are endless. 

This issue was so impressionable in our months of dating that I wrote a poem about sorrels and paints:

THE DEBATE

He rides a sorrel and I ride a paint

We debate at which one is better.

He says his sorrel is quick and athletic

I say my paint has outstanding genetics.

He rides along right beside me

And compares our colts to each other

His eyes are twinkling all the while

He always has a delighted smile.

I'm very proud of my flashy paint mare

Her eye is kind and willing,

Her feet move smoothly as we ride

She has three colors on her hide.

His sorrel is built exactly right

I have to admit he's smart.

He doesn't complain when there's work to do

But gladly follows Warren's cue.

We've gone round in circles for many months,

There's been no compromise.

It seems this is an endless debate:

Which is superior: sorrels or paints?

There's a secret I haven't told him yet

The real truth will soon be known.

I tease and argue without relent

And my opinion shall not be bent

But when it comes to the actual facts

Sorrel or paint doesn’t matter.

The color of my horse is trivial, you see,

Just as long as he's riding right next to me.

When our little Owen Wesley joined the family we knew that he would be decided on this matter. I mean, with something as pivotal as this debate, his opinion would come as naturally as he has my nose and Warren's mouth. Warren has been looking for a pony for him and has found some sorrels he thinks will do. I needed to get Owen's take on it before we spend money on a pony. So, I sat him down the other morning and laid out the debate in order to get his answer. I was careful not to discuss the situation beforehand, or attempt to steer his opinion to agree with mine. I simply asked two questions and he gave two answers:

Me: "Wesley, Daddy and I want to get you a pony. How about a sorrel?"

Wesley: 

Me: "No? We could look for a paint then."

Wesley:

If I had manipulated or persuaded Wesley's decision in any way I may have felt guilty the day we come home with a paint for him. Thank goodness I'm not that devious.