This is a cautionary tale about a little boy, his mother, and her art of concealing vital information from a teacher.

I give beginning horseback riding lessons, mostly to small children, and I enjoy it for the most part. When Mrs. X* called to schedule lessons for her 7-year old son, Biff*, I thought we'd have a great time, and possibly even get him into summer horse camp. Seven is such a great age for riding lessons.

And then I met Biff.

He was one of those cute, large-eyed, big-headed kids who get away with murder because everyone just "aws" at them when they do something naughty. We began our lesson with the basics; we walked to the stall to get Wendy out. Wendy is a 23-year old Quarter horse mare who puts up with a lot, and she had to put up with a lot from Biff.

I found myself repeating Biff's name over and over to get his attention, wrapping his fingers around items to MAKE him hold onto them, and rapidly losing patience in general. He was not the 7-year old I had expected. Getting him up on Wendy was like hoisting a 30-lb bag of flour into a saddle. He couldn't sit up straight, couldn't let go of the saddle horn, couldn't squeeze Wendy to make her go or say "Ho" to make her stop, or steer her, or focus on where he was going. At several points, I thought, this is insane - I should just stop. As for speaking, he liked to repeat everything I said, but didn't bring much to the conversation.

When the lesson was finished, his mom asked how he did. I explained that Biff needed more focus and motor skills to truly make this riding activity worth his while (and her money). Her reaction stunned me. She was shocked that he didn't catch on right away, since he's so bright and so athletic, etc. I had to find some kind, positive reply, even if I wanted to scream, "he acts autistic - get him tested!" She decided to make another appointment, since, as she pointed out, "He's usually a little overloaded the first time he tries anything."

The next Saturday arrived, and the same Biff showed up. I carefully shepherded him through his grooming, led him around the (blisteringly hot) arena for 20 minutes, then held his hand while we put Wendy away. I took him to his mother, prepared to tell her that her son just wasn't ready.

That's when I got the whole story. When Biff was a baby, he had some kind of horrid neurological disorder, and they nearly lost him. According to mom, the doctor told them that "the more you treat him as normal, the more normal he'll become."

Aha! That may be true, but I think instructors need to know where a child is starting from when there is a disability in the picture. I'm not trained to work with special needs kids, but I'm game to learn what works and what doesn't, and I certainly need to know that a child needs something different from my normal lesson. Biff isn't normal. He will become normal, but I need to know how to keep him safe, and treating him like he is a normal 7-year old around horses is not safe, trust me.

He's had 3 "lessons" now and is still not sitting up, steering, making the horse go or stop. He's having fun, and that's all his mother wants. It's the most expensive pony ride I've ever given.

And now that it's over, I'm relaxing with a margarita - a really big one.

*Names have been changed. Duh.