When B. was little, his granddad would let him ride a horse every now and then. A real, huge, living and breathing, snorting and kicking horse. Granddad would saddle it up and B. would come over with treats and pet the horse’s nose, getting ready to go for a ride. The problem was that he was too short to climb into the saddle by himself.
But that didn’t stop B. Now picture a skinny six-year-old leading a horse to a nearby fence and with all the conviction and determination of a grown up pushing it to stand just right so that he could climb onto the fence and then into the saddle.
The first time B.’s mom saw it she probably had a heart attack. But after three or four tries, the horse knew exactly what to do. He got a treat and B. got a ride. Decades later B. came back to town and bought a large house, his second, so that the whole family could hang out at Thanksgiving.
Moral: Fake it till you make it.