At age five, my daughter began taking riding lessons, learning the basics of starting, stopping, and staying on the pony. She had a short attention span and an even shorter fuse. It was a lesson in patience for both of us.

While I hoped Sarah had been born with the horse "bug", she could go for weeks at a time without catching even a glimpse of her pony. And I didn't mind caring for him (she was downright dangerous with a pitchfork, and in danger of getting trampled at feeding time). Much of the time, it was more relaxing to have her out of the barn than in it.

Sarah's first pony, Champs, came equipped with such terrific ground manners that Sarah could safely groom him on her own. Of course, like any five-year-old, she'd brush the middle of the pony three times, skip the back, brush the head four times, spend ten minutes on the tail and consider herself done. It didn't help that she couldn't reach the top of his back, so mom had to step in for the finishing touches.

Getting to and from Pony Club proved to be another adventure altogether. By the time I'd fed and dressed Sarah and had her safely in the truck (along with a hearty supply of food and drink), plus loaded pony and tack in the trailer, I was beat. I began to hope Sarah would give up horses for gymnastics (pack some leotards and you're done) or swimming (grab a towel and head out the door). However, while Sarah's been happy to add gymnastics and swimming to her repertoire, she's unwilling to give up on horses. Our schedule has only gotten that much more complex (be careful what you wish for).

As my daughter's skills have developed and she's gained three years and a few inches, she's been able to take on more responsibility. That doesn't mean she's cleaning stalls yet (still dangerous with a pitchfork), but she can sweep barn aisles, help load and unload the trailer, and feed some of the horses without getting trampled. We sometimes even ride together.

This is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it's really cute and self-gratifying to ride side-by-side with your offspring. On the other hand, it can be nerve-wracking. When we tack up, I'm supervising Sarah's work while doing my own. Champs has retired and the new pony, aptly named Sassy, has taken his place. While Sassy stands 12 hands at best, Sarah still can't lift the saddle onto the pony's back. Bridle straps are still something of a mysterythere are an unlimited number of ways for an eight year-old to attach them. I also feel obliged, for the pony's sake, to supervise the adjustment of the curb chain.

So, I'm simultaneously tacking up two horses, constantly asking Sarah to step away from the pony's hind end (which children are magnetically drawn to). Sarah's favorite task is cleaning the pony's hooves, probably the most dangerous of all grooming taskswhich guarantees children will be drawn to it. By the time the horses are clean and tacked up, I'd really rather go take some Tylenol and lie down for an hour. However, it's time to saddle up.

Sarah insists on mounting by herself: an exercise in sheer determination. She does not want help, thank you! She cranks her left foot into the stirrup (rarely remembering to hang on to the reins at the same time) and hoists herself up into the saddlelooking like a rock climber scaling a sheer face without a safety rope. At least she's wearing a helmet, I remind myself. Use a mounting block? No way! That's for sissies!

This exercise in willpower having been completed, Sarah stops to adjust her gloves and put her feet into the stirrupseverything must be just so. In the meantime, I'm reminding her to pick up her reins in case the pony decides to run off. How many times have we gone through this drill? More than I care to remember.

Once Sarah's "safely" in the saddle, holding the reins, I turn to my own mount, who has fallen asleep through sheer boredom. He comes to life when I attempt to mount (using the mounting block to ascend all three stories) and refuses to stand still. It would help if Sarah would make her pony stand still, but that would lead to a verbal confrontation I'm in no mood to take on. I'll fight with my green horse, instead. I finally manage a vault onto his back (we'll work on that standing-while-mounting thing later) and we're off.

As Sarah has observed, her pony, Sassy, looks like a Breyer horse next to Nick (short for Mount Nick). I peer down through the cloud layer at the two of them. They do look cute. At 12 hands, Sassy is capable of the quickest, most choppy trot imaginable. I ask Sarah to keep her behind Nick and warn her not to pass us. If she passes us, she's going too fast; when she does pass us she likes to dart into our path (like a bicycle in the path of a freight train) or squeeze us into the side of the arena.

I can recite my list of instructions to Sarah without even watching her (as I'm sure my own trainer does for me): "Get your heels down!(pause)Sit up straight!(pause)Slow the pony down!" I insist on a warm-up at the walk. I think 10 minutes is good; Sarah starts bugging me at about three. "Can we trot yet?," she asks.

As usual, the pony starts out without any brakes. As a result, we all get to practice walk/halt transitions. Nick's getting really good at this! Sassy knows what to do, but attempts to barrel through the halt until Sarah shows her she means it. After riding Champs, her very first and saintly pony, it's confusing to Sarah that the pony might love her but not always do what she wants. I watch with pride as she makes the pony listen.

I prolong our warm-up by having Sarah do stretching exercises on horseback. You know: circle the arms, legs, ankles, etc. Finally I can stall her no longer, it's time to trot. The pony starts out at 100 m.p.h., Sarah's cue to bring her back to a walk. This really ticks Sassy off, but it's an excellent exercise. We repeat our trot/walk transitions for a while, then do some basic school figures. Again, I'm stalling. Sarah wants to canter the entire time. I never know if she'll last for 10 minutes (which, as you might guess, interrupts my own work, since Sarah's too small to open the heavy, sliding barn door) or 40 minutes. In any case, a flexible attitude is needed.

One day, after watching me struggle with my own horse, Sarah asked me, "Why did you buy Nick if he's naughty sometimes?" A good question. I explained that Nick, like Sassy, sometimes doesn't understand what I want; sometimes I don't ask him correctly; and sometimes he just doesn't feel like doing what I want him to do. "But you know," I told her, "I still love him when he's naughtyjust like I still love you when you're naughty." The look on her face told me I'd given her something to think about.

It's been good for Sarah to see me struggle with some of the same things she's working with. Is it genetic or a coincidence that we were both having trouble with our canter leads last month? Sassy's never been good cantering to the right. Now that Sarah's sitting the canter well enough to start working on getting the correct lead, she's finding out just how difficult it can be to get a stubborn pony to obey. Nick recently decided he'd rather work on the counter-canter than the more standard gait. (I'd planned to wait until we were at least beyond Training Level to begin this work, but Nick has his own plans.) So, Sarah and I took a lesson together with an emphasis on canter leads.

There were some harrowing moments, like when Sarah cut me off in a corner and when my trainer insisted that I pick up the canter with Sarah and Sassy just two strides ahead of me. I was accused of procrastinating, but I guess it was my motherly instincts that prevented me from following too closely. Yes, it can be distracting to ride with a childespecially your own. However, its a terrific opportunity for a young person to see that a grown-up, too, has to work hard at riding; that we all have problems we need to work through; and that, sometimes, you've got to be tough, determined, and patient. These life lessons are even more important than getting the right canter lead.

My daughter went home that day feeling proud. She'd worked hard and gotten her right lead more easily than I did. I wasand amjust as proud. Another successful mother/daughter lesson.