Running around, all commotion. Upsetting old and young alike. Annoying squalling little things. She said as much to Ma, when they were making dinner, and Ma chuckled. ‘Just like you, when you got your cutie mark,’ she said, and Smith blushed and stammered, ‘Not likely,’ and changed the subject.
Well the rain was miserable too, so no firelight, no music, only straight to bed and lying there in darkness, waiting, as the rain drummed down upon the canvas. The sort of thing she used to find comforting, when she was young and stupid.
And Apple Rose was out tonight. Again.
augh, it's so perfectly teenager how harsh she is with her younger and more innocent self, just like she is with the excitable foals that are just like she once was not too long ago. (also idk, extra cute to imagine them as "squalling" for some reason!)
and of course, i'd easily imagine Granny Smith finding comfort in the little things like the sound of drumming rain. it's interesting how so many little things like this are a full circle, in the end