The Pony Express Museum (Day 2)

T5 explaining the route to the kids....

Middle Child hopped on the first pony he could find and I in turn snapped a picture.....

Which in turn led to Baby Girl shouting with great urgency...."wait, I wasn't on my pony yet, take another picture"....as if I only had a 36 roll exposure of film....oh the drama in that little soul.

And the sweet smile that comes out of it....

Well you can't have a bunch of horses and not have some water for them.....

I love the word "mochila"....I may start using it in my everyday language I love it that much.  "Kid's, get your snack for school and put it in your mochila".  Or, a better example...."Middle Child, if I have to tell you one more time to get this Mochila out from the middle of the laundry room floor...."

The pockets of the mochilas were, obviously, where the riders kept the mail.  5 pounds or mail per pocket.

I couldn't pass up an opportunity to ride my own pony, saddled across my own mochila, and shout to have my picture made at the Pony Express museum as well.  Memories....soon after, I almost fell off this 3 foot horse.

Baby Girl would have been a great Laura Ingalls fill in on Little House on the Prairie, minus the shiny white boots.

Please take just a few seconds to read this: 

Seriously, some of the riders were 11 years old?  Well, let me just say, the Pony Express didn't stick around for very long, just over a year in service, for various reasons. 

 And as a mother I know why.  Stories tell of the riders having to go out in such harsh conditions....one rider spoke of riding his horse in the driving rain, and he only knew what direction he was traveling in by the side of his face the rain was smacking him on!!!

I'm not about to put this cute guy on a horse in Missouri and tell him to ride to California, being hindered by driving rain, or snow, or manuevering through a herd of buffalo or tribe of Indians without getting trampled or killed just so you can receive your current Southern Living magazine, or love letter from that boy you met at summer camp, or that silly DirectTV flyer in the mail. 

He's just too cute for that.