“And young Leonard’s still holding on….You go there, Leonard!…He’s got some grit….Aaaaaah.”

Leonard has fallen off the sheep, which is no surprise, because honestly it looks like a savage beast. Three men rush forward to catch the sheep, while Leonard leaps to his feet, beaming proudly, and the crowd goes even wilder.

“Let’s hear it for Leonard!”

“Leo-nard! Leo-nard!” A whole group of people, who must be Leonard’s adoring family, are chanting. Leonard gives a cocky little bow, then rips his bandanna from around his neck and throws it into the crowd.

He what? He’s a child who just fell off a sheep, not a Wimbledon champion! I look at Suze, to share my disapproval with her, but her whole face is lit up.

“This reminds me of my childhood,” she says enthusiastically. Which makes no sense. Suze was brought up in an aristocratic family in Britain, not on a ranch in Arizona.

“Did your mum and dad wear cowboy hats?” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Sometimes,” says Suze without batting an eyelid. “You know what Mummy’s like. She used to come to gymkhanas in the most frightful outfits.”

Actually, that I can believe. Suze’s mum has such an eclectic collection of clothes, it should be in Vogue. She’s also very attractive, in that bony, horsey way. If she had a good stylist on hand all the time—e.g., me—she’d look brilliantly, wonderfully weird. (As it is, most of the time she just looks weird.)

Another child has entered the arena, on the same sheep. Or maybe a different one. How am I meant to tell? It looks equally lively, and the little girl is almost falling off already.

“And here’s Kaylee Baxter!” proclaims the announcer. “Kaylee is six years old today!”

“Come on!” says Suze. “Let’s get Minnie entered!”

She grabs Minnie’s hand and heads toward the entry tent. There’s a form to fill in and places to sign, and Luke does all that, while I try to think of more reasons why this is a bad idea.

“I think Minnie’s feeling a bit unwell,” I tell him.

“Sheep!” chimes in Minnie, jumping up and down. “Ride-da-sheep. Ride-da-sheep.” Her eyes are bright and her cheeks are flushed with excitement.

“Look, she’s feverish.” I clamp a hand on her forehead.

“No, she’s not.” Luke rolls his eyes.

“I mean, I think she twisted her ankle earlier.”

“Does your ankle hurt?” Luke inquires of Minnie.

“No,” Minnie replies emphatically. “Does not hurt. Ride sheep.”

“Becky, you can’t wrap her up in cotton wool.” Luke addresses me directly. “She needs to experience the world. She needs to take some risks.”

“But she’s two! Excuse me.” Crisply, I address the woman who’s collecting the forms. She’s skinny and tanned, and her bomber jacket reads, WILDERNESS JUNIOR HIGH TWIRLERS: HEAD COACH.

“Yes, hon?” She glances up from the table. “Got your form?”

“My daughter’s only two,” I explain. “I think she’s probably too young to enter. Aren’t I right?”

“She two and a half yet?”