Find a pony, pick it up

As I drove up the mountain on Monday morning, I kept thinking Penny would make a good name, or maybe Liberty. Em wouldn't consent to these names with her first pony, but surely, with this second one, she'd relent. After all, my daughter was sure to still be in a state of shock and would not be thinking clearly enough to refuse my suggestions. Then again, I too was in a state of shock. Who wouldn't be upon hearing the news that the pony we'd purchased two months and ten days earlier had just delivered a baby?!

The woman who owns the stable where Brandi lives had phoned us shortly after breakfast to say that when she went to go feed our pony, she discovered the foal laying near Brandi's feet. None of us had known she was pregnant. And she'd never let on to us either! Today she has a son. A beautiful prince. Amazing.

What to name to him? Penny and Liberty certainly won't work for a boy. I suggested Abraham. No. Lincoln? No. "Mom, give it up," Em tells me. "Use those names in your penny stories. I'll take care of the pony name."

I can only shrug my shoulders. But I have not lost hope that she will notice the foal's beautiful coloring and at least consider the name Copper...