Pinkie Pie.
She is the premier party planner in Ponyville, an incredible baker, an element of harmony, and an amazing friend. But to me, she is more. Much, Much more.
Pinkie Pie found me in Froggy Bottom Bog one day, just after I hatched from my egg. She offered me a cupcake, and I ate it. She giggled at that, and I’ll never forget that sound. It was like seeing the sun for the first time, hearing her laugh. I blinked, and she smiled at me. It was a warm smile. A caring smile. She picked me up, and put me inside her pink mane. It was like being in the bog underwater, except poofier. And pinker. And soft. So soft. I gummed her hair for a while, but she didn’t seem to mind. She just giggled, and said she’ll call me Gummy. She plucked me from her mane and took me in her hooves.
“Wanna come live with me in Ponyville?” She asked. I blinked and licked my left eye. She grinned the biggest smile and hugged me to her chest. I bit onto her tail and she bounced back into town. She got me everything I needed, and even stuff I just plain wanted.
Most ponies think I don’t talk. They think I’m stupid, or too docile, but it isn’t true. They just don’t listen. They don’t hear me. But she does. Even though she is a loud, boisterous pony, she knows how to interpret silence. She hears me talk all of the time. Sometimes I question my existence, others I just speculate about life. And she listens. Sometimes she speaks on my thoughts, other times she is quiet. But she is always there. Listening. Providing unconditional support and love.
She sees me when others do not. She listens to me when others can’t. She shows me what it means to smile, to truly smile, and what joy looks like.
I am there to listen to her too. I hear her frustrations and fears. When she begins to go mad, I am there to hear her. To others she seems illogical, irrational, so random. But not to me. There is a method to her madness. It just isn’t clear to other ponies. But I see it. Every intention, every move, every plan. I see everything. I make sense of the madness.
Pinkie Pie is much more than just my owner. She is the best thing that ever happened to me. She is more than just a pony, just a friend, just a party planner. She is all those things.
But she is my Mama first.
It is an average morning for us. Everything is routine. I wake to the gentle pressure of her hoof on my back.
“Wakey wakey, Gummy! It’s another beautiful day! I’ve got your breakfast ready!” She says. I open my eyes and blink. She giggles. “Come on, silly! Let’s go!” She turns and I latch onto her tail. She bounces downstairs. She feeds me oatmeal, something soft and mushy since I don’t have teeth. She lets me finish my breakfast, no matter how long it takes. Then she eats herself. When that’s done and the dishes are put away, she takes me upstairs and flosses my gums. After that, she goes down to start baking. Today is extra special. There is extra to bake today. Because although it is an average morning, it is not an average day.
Today is mother’s day.
Mama bakes. She bakes all morning. Stirring, pouring, sifting, mixing, and putting things in the oven. Cookies, cakes, pies, pastries, anything and everything you could imagine. She seems not to notice me, but looks can be deceiving. I know she knows I’m there.
I want to give her something for today. Something to say thank you for all she’s done. But I don’t know what to give her.
I move my head slightly, and look around. There is a bowl of batter there, seemingly untouched. She’s got a full oven right now. She can’t fit anything more in there without getting stuff all over the other pans. No way she would try. An idea strikes me. I pad over to the bowl, being as quick as I can. Of course, for me that means only making a few steps per minute. But it’s enough. I reach the bowl. I crouch down low. Then, using all of the strength my horrendously stubby legs have, I jump inside. I almost tip over the bowl, but I don’t. The batter is almost as high as me. I have to keep my head up to breathe. I roll around in the batter, getting good and coated. Maybe I might get in trouble for this later, but for what I have planned, it will be worth it. I hop out from the bowl, almost tripping again, and I go over to a place where there is no mess. I use my claws to write, and I use my tail to make a shape. It’s a lot of work for me, but I don’t mind. Mama is worth it. When it’s done, I take a well deserved break. Then I look at Mama, and I wait.
Mama is humming, singing to herself. She takes the goodies out of the oven. “Gummy, can you tell me when everything is cool?” She asks. I stay silent on purpose. “Gummy, did you hear me? I said-“ She pauses when she sees me covered in chocolate batter. She giggles. “Gummy, did you go swimming in the cake batter again?” She shakes her head. “You silly alligator! Don’t you know we have things to do today! Why don’t we get you cleaned-“ She stops mid-sentence.
Her eyes widen to the size of pie plates as she takes in my gift. Then, her eyes welled up with tears. She picked me up and hugged me tight. She got coated in batter, but I don’t think she cared.
“Oh Gummy, I love you.” She says.
In chocolate batter is the word Mama, inside of a heart with me in it.
Happy Mother’s Day, Mama. I love you too.