'Mighty things, from small beginnings, grow.' - John Dryden
Prism frowned awkwardly at the small, wriggling thing in front of him. It was tiny, slightly wrinkly, and when he reached out to poke it, it was warm.
He cocked his head to one side, an ear flopping down.
"Dis is baby?" He asked his mom, who was holding the little wrinkled sausage thing as if it were a precious vase.
She chuckled tiredly. "Yup. This," she motioned, holding out the bundle of blue fluff, "is your little brother."
A lock of gently curling red, orange and yellow hued mane peeked over the corner of the blanket as one green eye cracked open just the tiniest bit.
"His name is Sun Sweeper," his dad smiled at him, "can you say that buddy? S-uh-n Swee-per." He sounded it out.
Prism scratched his cheek. "Sah-Sweemper..." he stumbled on the name, trying to form the words in his mouth.
"Attaboy, champ! Well done!" His mom beamed, as his dad clapped his hooves together.
Prism grinned slightly. He didn't know where this thing he come from or why everyone was making such a big fuss over it, but if this was the reaction he was going to get from his parents, then it was fine by him.
"Suh-Sweemper!" He giggled, clapping his hooves together like Soarin, "Sunny! Sunny!"
Still, more praise from the parents. Prism laughed. It was like clockwork.
But then, the little blue thing- Sunny- made a horrid screechy wailing noise. Immediately his parents' attention switched from Prism to the baby. His grandparents, with whom he had a rather unexpected sleepover for the past three days, turned their attention to the baby also, Windy Whistles cooing and transferring the bundle from his mom's wings to her own.
His mom sighed, rested back down on the sofa, glad to have the- even small- weight out of her hands. Prism hopped up into the air and clumsily fluttered his way over to her. She clapped her hooves tiredly at his effort, smiling as he landed in her lap.
"Hey, Prism, I've missed you, peanut," she gathered him up in her arms. Prism snuggled into the familiar scent of green apples and cinnamon and lavender- a very mom smell. The most comforting smell known to him.
"Prism miss you too mom," he told her very seriously in his broken toddler-language. "But Ganpa lemme have waffles all the days for breakfast, not yucky oatmeal!"
Bow Hothoof was suddenly very intruiged with the smooth cloud ceiling as Dash shot a glare at her father. Shaking her head, she turned back to Prism.
"So, what do you think of your new baby brother?" She asked, kissing him on the head.
Prism wrinkled his nose. "It cry a lot. And look like a mushroom." He hadn't even quite grasped the concept of what a brother was.
Dash burst out laughing, clasping him closer to her chest as she threw him gently in the air, catching him lightly. "Kiddo," she chuckled, "for the last three and a half years it's just been us three, right? Well now, our epic trio's become a squad. What do you think about that?"
"Don't know..." Prism mumbled, burying himself further into her chest feathers. In all truth, he was tired from staying up all night, despite his granny's plea for him to go to sleep, watching through the window for his parents' return.
Dash shook her head fondly, feeling her eyes drift shut. And although she wasn't looking forward to the sleepless nights and messy clothes that was to come, life was good. Life was really good.
Prism regarded his brother across the room with a gaze that really, held much more intelligence than anyone knew.
His life had changed, and he didn't even know it.
Prism growled as he heard another high-pitched scream come from the kitchen. He didn't like the new baby. For the last eight months, all it had done was cry and poop and eat and take all his parents' attention. It made all of them tired by wailing at unearthly times in the morning. Times that no pony who possessed even an ounce of sanity should be up.
In fact, it had hogged his parents attention ever since it had crossed the threshold of the house. Some days they didn't even have a chance to read Prism his special Daring Do story, and they had only finished one chapter within the last two months. The baby was whiny and smelly and annoying and couldn't even toss a cloudpuff or play wing ball. Totally lame.
But, at least, he understood what a brother was. The understanding had come with his fourth birthday, Prism thought. Now, at four years old, he was practically as clever as a grown up, and knew that the baby was going to stay with them forever, and that Prism's mom and dad were his mom and dad also. Prism didn't mind having a brother, never had any doubt that his parents had stopped loving him. But he was annoyed at how much attention they gave to the whiny, squawky baby.
He hopped out of bed and traipsed towards the kitchen, suddenly hungry for breakfast. Maybe he would ask his dad to make waffles. Yeah. Waffles sounded nice.
His mom was sitting in front of the bawling devil-child, trying to coax a plastic spoon full of applesauce into its screaming mouth. It bashed it roughly, sending the mushed fruit right into his mom's face.
Prism snorted, before stifling it and frowning solemnly. His lips quirked as he tried to hide his mirth. He had to give the wailing thing credit, his mom with Zap-Apple Jam all over her face was a pretty hilarious sight.
His mother fixed her glare on him, and Prism's humour instantly faded.
"Heheh... hi mom..." he grinned obnoxiously widely, plastering a serene look across his face.
Her tired eyes darkened, before she smiled at him sweetly.
"Prism, would you like to have a go feeding your brother?"
Prism paled. "Uhh... no fanks mom... hehe... I eat waffles now..."
"Oh, no you don't," she swooped in, getting applesauce all over his mane as she picked him up and set him on the table in front of his brother. "It's your turn to feed him. I'll be back in literally two seconds, okay?
Prism pulled a face, taking the spoon and gingerly holding it out to his brother's mouth. Green eyes stared back at him apprehensively.
Prism stuck his tongue out, and the blue-hued foal stared defiantly back at him.
Prism wrinkled his nose. "You gross and smelly," he muttered, sticking the spoon in the applesauce. Before he could stick the spoon in his brother's mouth, Sunny tried to bat the utensil as he did with their mother, only seeming to smirk as Prism yanked his hoof quickly out of the way.
Prism glared at him, throwing down the jar on the little tray of Sunny's highchair, and jumped off the chair. His brother could go hungry, with that attitude.
He was just about the storm out of the room when he heard a scared-sounding wail. A creature had crawled through the open window- a cat, Prism knew, from all of his animal books. Usually, only critters with wings lived in Cloudsdale, but their neighbour's bad-tempered cat, Tiddlywinks, had been enchanted to walk on the vaporous floor.
It now smirked, stalking menacingly towards Prism's brother, claws out, with a practised ease that suggest it had done this before when his mother was out of the room. Bullying Sunny.
Prism wasn't sure exactly what it was, but there was some strange emotion that coursed through him, that caused him to stick one of his dad's metal pots on his head and charge at the cat, wooden spoon in hand. Nobody was going to bully Sunny, or be mean to him. (Except for maybe Prism himself, because that's what siblings were for.) Not even a stupid cat.
He channelled his inner Daring Do and waved his sword- or spoon- at the offender.
The cat yowled when the pot fell off Prism's head, and scampered off, cowardly when faced with someone who could fight back. Sunny sniffled, and grasped Prism's hoof tightly when the older colt lifted it up to see if his brother was okay.
There was a flapping of wings and suddenly their mother was back in the kitchen demanding to know what had caused the great crashing sound.
"Mean cat was going to scratch Sunny," Prism explained simply, "I scared it off. Like Daring Do."
His mother took a moment to regard the open window, the pawprints on the counter-top, and the way Sunny was now clutching her older son with a self-soothing familiarity, and smiled.
"Well, Sunny," she addressed the baby as she took the spoon off Prism, "how lucky you are to have a big brother who will always look out for you."
His father trotted in then, and before he could frown and reprimand Prism at the sight of this best pots on the floor, Sunny let out a keening cry that diverted both of his parents attention.
For once, Prism wasn't angry at his brother's screams- Sunny had just saved him a scolding. Prism grinned, and suddenly there was a newfound alliance between him and his brother.
Perhaps he wouldn't be so boring after all.