I was 10 and my brother was 9. I didn't want him hanging out with myself and my horsey friends. So I put him on a barn sour pony, thinking he'd just want to stay home. He fought that pony like a rodeo bronc. We were golden once we got gone, but coming back to the house and started up the drive and the pony bolted. Flat out bit in the teeth. He ran right into the pony run in, which had a smaller opening to keep the horses out of it. My poor brother splatted like a bug on a windshield on the top half of the pony run. He didn't let go of the reins(death grip X200) and the pony did a complete back flip. Fixed the pony of being barn sour though!!
I admitted to my Mom what I had done while we were taking my brother to the ER. She stopped on the side of the highway and lit up my life HARD.
Brother had a concussion and a broken nose. Plus he had a slave of an older sister for 90 days. Part of my punishment was his chores and mine for 3 months. I had to fetch and carry for the little turd the whole 3 months.
He volunteered me for EVERYTHING. Grass cutting, raking, house cleaning, stall cleaning, puppy pooper scooper, dish washer; heck you name it, he volunteered me for it! Good times though LOL
He was the last one to ride that pony before he was euthanized. This was some 20 years later. We all cried like babies and he proudly told the story of how he broke him from being barn sour. He was HIS pony after that. He hated everyone else. I still miss that evil little biting demon.
I miss you Rascal. Every day, all day.