apparently, if you’re two years old, there is nothing more fun than gobbling down some pizza and then donning the tablecloth that you’ve dirtied which has magically been transmogrified into a cape and galloping ( quite literally galloping – i have no idea where he learned that horses gallop ) after your mamma.

it’s all the more fun if you can convince your mamma that her horse is the kitchen broom. and, of course, much whinnying and neighing is absolutely, positively, without a doubt required.