I came downstairs in time to hear the final refrain of a song Mabel had made up that ended, “Where all the chairs are free!” I asked, “Free as in not costing anything, or free as in liberated?” She said, “Free as in they have rights.” So she sang me the whole song, which also has an accompanying march:
I’m the personal leader of Chairland
Where all the chairs are free
Let’s go down to Chairland
Come to Chairland with me.
But all the chairs have rights there
So when you sit down
Don’t sit on the chairs, please
Sit down on the ground.
Everyone’s friends in Chairland
And all the chairs agree
Everyone’s glad in Chairland
Where all the chairs are free!
Apparently, ponies don’t have the same rights that chairs do. (We went to Southern Utah for a couple of nights right after Christmas, where all but one of Dean’s eight siblings and their families managed to assemble. Our cousins in Leeds let the kids feed their goats, pet the chickens, and ride their miniature horse.)