Age 5
Pinkie sighed heavily as she mounted the stairs. She blew a strand of wavy mane out of her face—it had been a valiant fight, but her curls were finally starting to fall. Ordinarily, she'd touch them up a bit, but the bakery was closed and the kids were asleep; no one was going to notice either way.
Pinkie walked past the door to the kids’ room—then paused, and walked back. She pushed the door open a little wider, poked her head inside, and watched them for a moment. Finally, she let out a happy little sigh.
The room was dark and quiet. The window was open to the late summer night, the sound of cricket song wafting in. The three little ones lay sprawled on the bed—her old bed, actually, turned sideways so all three could share it more-or-less comfortably.
The kids themselves were sprawled every which way, still sweaty, their blanket half-crumpled in a pile down by their hooves. They’d been especially rambunctious today, and almost driven Pinkie up the wall. Quite a feat, these days; any other circumstances, and she’d almost be proud of them.
But finally, they were asleep. Finally, she had a moment to herself, to take care of those things that she couldn’t do when they were awake.
And here she was, spending her time with them.
Pinkie tiptoed into the room and carefully rearranged them. She folded Whiskey’s wings closed (Pinkie smiled; she refused to be called anything else after Pinkie told her about Rarity’s mistake), brushed Tango’s mane out of his face, and straightened Foxie out so her neck wasn’t so kinked. Then, she covered them back up with the blanket, took another moment to smooth it out, and bent down and gave each of them a kiss.
Pinkie leaned back and watched them sleep—then had a thought and chuckled a little. She reached down and pushed Tango and Foxie apart, then slowly, carefully, laid down between them. After a moment, pulled the three of them in for a tight hug, then sighed contentedly.
Pinkie stayed quiet for a moment, looking up at the rafters above them, listening to the sound of her children breathing and to the cricket song outside.
“You know,” she said finally, to no one in particular, “this isn’t how I was expecting my life to go.”
For a long moment, the only sound was the crickets. “I’m not complaining,” she suddenly said to the darkness. “Just... “ she chuckled a little. “The three of you, about to go off to school… and me, by myself, doing my best to keep this family afloat…”
Pinkie shook her head. “I was just like all the other fillies growing up.” She paused. “Still kinda am, to be honest.” She swallowed. “I wanted a big, strong stallion to take care of me. I wanted to have a nice, big family, and we’d have fun, and games, and sing and dance and play all day. Life was going to be one big party,” she said with a sigh. “And, when I met your father, I thought it was all going to come true.”
She was quiet for a moment, remembering. “I met him in Canterlot,” she said. “Did I ever tell you that? I was there for a dessert competition… won first place and everything. The rounds were spaced a couple days apart, so I had a little time to play. I said ‘hi’ to some old friends, did the celebrity tours, and all that, and, when that got old, I went out dancing. That’s where I met your daddy, actually—one of the dance clubs. We must have danced for hours that first night—and just as long the second. He was such a dancer—he was so graceful, and he knew all the moves…” Pinkie blushed in the darkness. “And then, there were our private dances…”
She was quiet for a moment, then sighed. “For those first few months, we were happy. We worked hard all day, and every night was a party. We… we were even talking about getting married…” she paused, then sniffled. “And then we got into trouble.”
Pinkie was quiet for a moment. “That wasn’t the only thing, of course,” she said, finally. “Your father was… well, for everything he was, he wasn’t a good pony. I saw it, of course, but, I don’t know…” she shrugged. “When you’re in love like that, you overlook some things. And others, you think you can change.” She shook her head. “And, the funny thing is, somewhere deep down inside… I think I still love him." She hesitated. "Is that silly of me? After all that’s happened?”
No answer came, save for the singing of the crickets.
“After we got in trouble,” she said, finally, “I had a lot of growing up to do, fast. ‘Party Pony Pinkie’ was fun, but she couldn’t make for a good mama. I knew that already, but somehow, I thought… I thought I’d have a little more time...”
Pinkie was quiet for a long while.
“Whiskey, Foxtrot,” she said, her voice thick and trembling, “Don’t you dare get into trouble. And, if you do, don’t come crying to me—I still don’t know what the heck I’m doing half the time. And, Tango—if you get a mare in trouble, Celestia help me, I’ll skin you alive.”
She hesitated for the briefest instant, then sighed and closed her eyes. “No,” she said, “No, I don’t mean that… You three are the single best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s been hard—hardest thing I’ve ever done—but, knowing that your smiling little faces are always going to be there for me… well, it’s the only way I could’ve done it.”
Pinkie laid there, listening to the crickets for a while, then finally stood. She kissed each of them one more time. “I love you,” she said, “so much. Don’t ever forget that, okay?”
She walked from the room, paused on the threshold, and watched them sleep, a faint smile on her face. Finally, she stepped out, and closed the door.
As soon as the latch clicked shut, three sets of eyes snapped open. They listened hard for her hoofsteps—one two three four creeeeeak—good. She was going back downstairs.
Tango sat up first. “Did you hear?” he whispered excitedly. “She talked about Daddy!”
“Kinda,” Whiskey muttered. “Did she even say his name?”
Foxie shook her head. “I don’t think so…”
“But still,” Whiskey added, “Daddy liked to dance. Just like me!”
Foxie looked up shyly at her. “D’you think he liked to color, too?”
Whiskey scoffed. “Grownups don’t color, dummy.”
“I’m not a dummy!” Foxie whined.
“Oh, hush,” Whiskey said with an eye roll. She glanced over at Tango; he was looking thoughtful. “What are you thinkin’ ‘bout?” she asked suddenly, reaching out to muss his mane. He batted her hoof away, almost without looking.
“I dunno…” he said, carefully. “Mama told us about Daddy when she thought we were asleep… d’ya think…” he glanced around at them. “D'ya think if we’re good like that… that she might tell us… more?”
For a while, no one said anything. Then, Whiskey shrugged. “Dunno,” she said. “But maybe we can try?”
Foxie nodded, and Tango smiled and laid back.
They listened to the crickets outside for a moment.
“Um…” Foxie said, suddenly. “What do you think Mama meant by ‘trouble?’”
Whiskey shrugged again. “Dunno… maybe she got sent to her bedroom?”
Tango sniffed imperiously. “All I know is,” he said, “it has something to do with girls. And that means you really do have cooties.”
Whiskey snarled and slugged him, and he yelped. Whiskey pounced on top of him, but, quickly, their fight devolved into wrestling, with both of them giggling as they rolled around. Foxie shied away from them, pressing herself up against the headboard at her side. She watched them, eyes wide, then slipped out of the bed with a sigh. She tiptoed towards the door, and put a hoof on the knob.
“Hey,” Whiskey said, accusingly, looking up from the sloppy headlock she had Tango in, “Where are you going?”
“Potty,” she said, then opened the door and slipped out.
Foxie looked around the darkened hall and shivered. She paused, strained hard for a moment, then lit her horn, casting a pale green glow on everything in the hallway. She tiptoed to the top of the stairs, then started down into the bakery, careful to skip the creaky step.
As she neared the bottom of the stairs, she looked up. Below her was the bakery, with five or six tables for customers, chairs stacked carefully on top—and, at one of the tables, with a solitary light shining down on her, sat Pinkie. She wore thin reading glasses, and held a pencil crossways in her teeth, her brow creased with concentration and worry. Spread all across the table were stacks of forms and charts, and at her elbow, a steaming cup of coffee--brewed double-strong, as always.
Foxie put out her horn, then snuck the rest of the way down the steps and slipped under the little privacy chain across the stairs. She tiptoed through the darkened room, and up behind Pinkie. She hesitated, then clambered up into her lap.
Pinkie jumped in surprise, but quickly looked down and smiled. “Hey, boog,” she said, running a hoof through her mane. “What are you doing up?”
Foxie didn’t respond—instead, she wrapped her arms around Pinkie. “Mama,” she murmured, “I love you, too.”
Slowly, Pinkie smiled. She hugged her back, and squeezed tight. “Thanks,” she said.
And, as they held each other, a strand of Pinkie’s mane popped up into a curl with a quiet sproing.
To be continued...
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Good one! Can't wait for the next act!
Thanks very much! I'm glad you liked it!
Who is the father of fluttershys and applejacks babies?
7104695
Frankly, I haven't decided; believe it or not, I don't really do much shipping. I'm leaning towards Fluttershy and Bulk Biceps, primarily because Lopoddity's art of them is totes adorbz (and also because I prefer Cheerimac over Flutter/Marblemac).
I have no idea for AJ, though. Suggestions, anypony?
And, before we ask that question--this is all I'm planning on revealing about WTF's dad. I might go back and write a "How They Met" chapter when I'm done with this arc, but we'll need to see.
That said, if you PM me and ask nicely, I might share my headcanon on that point with you ;)
I will say this, though--he's "just some pony." No one special. Though I WAS considering making him Discord for a while, though :)
As the child of a single mother...your story made me want to go hug my mom. Look forward to the sequels.
7104958
*blushes* Thank you very much for the high praise :)
7129634
Keep reading--spoiler alert, but Whiskey is a nickname.
(Yes, I know it doesn't match the title, but someone on reddit suggested it--and I like that all three of their given names are names of dances. Works out nicely, IMO)
7129692 I was thinking the military terms when I read the title
7129766
Yep, that's the idea:
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot is military spelling alphabet for "WTF."
Pinkie names her kids after dances, for reasons described in chapter 5: hence, "Waltz Tango Foxtrot."
Waltz isn't fond of her given name, and picks up the name "Whiskey" in Chapter 4, IIRC--hence, "Whiskey Tango Foxtrot."
Does that make a little more sense?
7129800 mlp.bartstuff.eu/mlp-rwink.png Yup
7104843
Presuming you mean to keep to canon ponies, I'd suggest either going through the Appleloosan eps for characters who quietly stand with competence in the background or are otherwise competent without being flashy, or turn the dial around to someone VERY flashy (but still honest); I suspect that's where some Soarjack ships come from. I'd actually half suggest reformed or "was just trying to throw off the hounds and didn't realize Rarity had any further depth" Blueblood if you go that way; he's a large pattern male like her brother, whose cutie mark could suggest surveying skills useful in a rural area. Or, that said, someone with useful ancillaries to production process, like a baker or something.
7130117
Thanks for the feedback! I think I may have already figured out where I want to go, though
Fluttershy: I was talking with some folks on reddit, actually, and one user suggested shipping Fluttershy with Apple Split (link); his design is really cute, IMO, and he seems nice--plus, I feel like Fluttershy wouldn't mind being married to a hyper-polite Southern gentleman :)
Applejack: As for Applejack, this user suggested putting her into a long-distance relationship with one of Rara's backup dancers; it's a hard situation for all of them (he's gone for months at a time, with only occasional visits, but he makes too much money for him to quit), but they're super-sappy and adorable when they're together. To be honest, a weird relationship wasn't quite my first choice, but it helps to establish/reinforce some important themes, plus, I like the sound of their sort of bittersweet relationship.
If you'd like to see a rough-cut outline of what happens, drop me a PM, and I'll send you the link :)
7245818
She shows up briefly in Chapter 4, IIRC. Still around, but doesn't live in Ponyville anymore. Same with Rarity.
7290820
yep--that's what inspired the story, actually. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot is NATO spelling alphabet for WTF
7313289
O geez. Thanks for the typo patrol!
We meet Daddy in part 2. And I'm currently in talks with someone to write ch.3.
Finally got around to reading this last night, and... wow.
That was intense, and gave me flashbacks to my own childhood. Watching Pinkie of all ponies suffer the struggles of single motherhood is heartbreaking. And the response from her friends is both heartwarming while also revealing how difficult that situation is: how do you help someone with something so personal without making them feel like a failure? Pinkie is a very proud pony, who does not like to be supported by anyone - she is the one who supports. But if she fails here it's not just her who suffers for it, but also her children.
7445840
Holy cow, thank you for the praise! That means a lot, especially coming from you :)
7447902
still haven't gotten around to looking at the sequel, I'm afraid. Lots of things on my reading list right now 
You're quite welcome
7458593
Not a problem. Personally, I think the sequel is better, but that's me :)
What a nice tale I just finished reading.
7471919
Thanks very much! I'm glad you liked it!
8750366
Oo, that would have been a really good connection to Pinkie's drinking habits. But, no, it's explained a little better than that--IIRC, Whiskey earns her name in Chapter 4.
it would be better with a twipie fic LOL