Bring Your Foal to Work Day


                                            >"Mommmmmmm, my hooves hurt."

                                            >You grind your teeth for the tenth time today.

                                            >If you do this any further, you'll most likely sprain a muscle in your jaw.

                                            >And it's going to rub off on your little one.

                                            >"Can you carry meeeeeee?"

                                            >Why did command think this was a good idea?

                                            >More importantly, why did you think this was a good idea?

                                            >The day started well enough: your filly was excited to go with you to "bring your foal to work day."

                                            >You were excited too, to show her what you do every day to help and protect ponies so that maybe one day she will take up this honorable line of work.

                                            >And by "helping and protecting ponies" you mean helping lost foals or something like that, not chasing after dangerous criminals.

                                            >That would not sit well with your husband.

                                            >Anyways, you left on patrol all sunshine and smiles with your filly, but it slowly degraded to this.

                                            >Whining after whining.

                                            >You give your filly a smile.

                                            "Sure, Honey."

                                            >"Yay!"

                                            >You haul her up on your back and resume your patrol.

                                            >Not three minutes in, she pipes up again.

                                            >"Mooooooom, your back hurrrrts. Can you take your armor off?"

                                            >You give her another pained smile.

                                            "I'm sorry, Honey, but mom can't take it off."

                                            >"Why not?"

                                            >Tia-damnit. She's giving you those wide, pleading eyes with a trembling lower lip.

                                            >Usually you would cave in to feed her whim unless your husband stepped in, or, in this case, regulation stands.

                                            >You're a royal guard, damnit! You can't be defeated by a filly!

                                            >Even if she is yours.

                                            >You shake your head and already Honey's face melts into sadness.

                                            "I can't, Honey. Mom has to follow rules or else she gets in trouble, ok?"

                                            >"Ok..."

                                            >You continue moving, but the squirming on your back is really getting to you.

                                            "Honey, stop that. Mom has to patrol."

                                            >"But your back hu-u-u-u-urts!"

                                            "Then you can trot."

                                            >"But I don't want to! My hooves hurt!"

                                            "Then what do you want?"

                                            >"I want icecream!"

                                            "No. You already had icecream when we left, and it's almost lunchtime for you. You'll spoil your appetite if you eat icecream."

                                            >"But it's so booooooooring! All we do is trot around! I thought we would chase after criminals or do something cool!"

                                            "We can't do that, Honey, that's too dangerous for you. And, we are doing something cool; we are helping ponies feel safe and protected."

                                            >"Pllllllrb, this is soooooo borrrrrrring. Can we just go home?"

                                            "Sorry, Honey, but mom has to finish this patrol and nopony is home to watch over you, so you have to stay with me."

                                            >Usually you leave her with the babysitter, but since you took up "bring your foal to work day" you decided not to bring her in today.

                                            >A decision you wholly regret.

                                            >"Awww! This sucks!"

                                            "Language, young lady."

                                            >"Sorry, mom."

                                            >You manage to trot about a few dozen feet before the inevitable happens.

                                            >"Mo-o-o-o-o-o-ommmmm."

                                            "What now?"

                                            >"I don't want to ride on your back anymore."

                                            >You heave a sigh and let her down from the perch.

                                            >Then, making sure she's following you, you resume.

                                            >"Mooooom."

                                            >Teeth, meet teeth.

                                            "Yes, Honey?"

                                            >"My hoooovves hurt."

                                            "Then you can ride on my back again."

                                            >"I don't want to. It hurts."

                                            "We can't just sit here, Honey. Mom's got a patrol to do."

                                            >"I don't want to do this! I want to go home!"

                                            >How did you raise your filly like this?

                                            >There's no way you did this.

                                            >You'll need to talk to your husband after this. It's probably him.

                                            "I told you before, you can't go home because there's nopony there to watch you."

                                            >"Why can't Aurora watch over me? She always does!"

                                            "Because mom decided not to hire her today, and she's probably not up to watch you now."

                                            >Honey pouts at this news, her mood darkening.

                                            >You already know what's about to happen.

                                            >"Then I don't want to patrol! I hate it! I hate it!"

                                            >She sits herself in the middle of street, with a few passers-by's giving you odd looks.

                                            >Great.

                                            "Honey, hate is a strong word. I don't want you using it, ok? And mom has to continue her patrol or her captain will be not be happy."

                                            >"But I'm not happy!"

                                            >She's got you there: she is your foal.

                                            >However, this job is something that supports her so that she can have the best life possible.

                                            >Even if there are a few bumps here and now.

                                            "Look, how about we trot for a few minutes more and then get something to eat, hm?"

                                            >"Then I have to patrol more after that! I don't wanna!"

                                            "Honey, dear, life doesn't always go the way you want, ok? Think of this as a learning experience."

                                            >"But I don't like this!"

                                            "You don't have to like it to learn. Now, are you going to sit there all day or are you going with your mom?"

                                            >"I don't wanna trot anymore! And your back hurts!"

                                            "I am not leaving you here and I am going to resume my patrol. Do you want the easy or hard way?"

                                            >"I'm not going anywhere!"

                                            >At that, you grab your filly's tail by your mouth and start pulling her down the road, her wailing and clinging desperately on the ground.

                                            >"I do-o-o-on't wanna go! I hate this! I never want to be in the royal guard! I hate the royal guard!"

                                            >You pause and spit her tail out, then turn to face your filly, who is currently laying on the ground looking the same direction you are.

                                            "Honey, look at me."

                                            >She doesn't turn her head.

                                            >You move into her vision.

                                            >She purposely averts her gaze.

                                            "Honey, I'm not messing around here."

                                            >Still she's not looking at you.

                                            >You give a little head shake as you put both her cheeks into your hooves and turn her head to face you.

                                            "Honey, do you know what the royal guard does every day?"

                                            >"I don't care."

                                            "Honey, we bust our flanks every single day so fillies like you can trot the streets without fear."

                                            "You see this armor? It weighs 40 pounds but I don't complain. I wear it so other ponies can see that we are here for them. To protect them, and me, from whatever harm that may come."

                                            "I trot miles, every day, so that criminals know that we are looking for them, but not only that, I also do it so I can help any pony in need. If an older pony has trouble with their groceries, I help them. If some foal is missing their parents, I bring them in and help look for them.

                                            "I didn't join just so I could make bits, Honey, I joined so that when I had a foal, they would grow up in an Equestria that's safe for them. So they can be loved safely, without any fear."

                                            >You move your hooves to embrace your precious Honey.

                                            "I did it, all for you."

                                            >You can feel Honey fall into your body, her nose nuzzling the gap in your armor to your neck.

                                            >A few moments of comfortable silence passes as Honey drinks in your words.

                                            >Finally, she speaks.

                                            >"I'm sorry, mom."

                                            "And I'm sorry for dragging you into this and making your hooves hurt. I'll never do it again, Honey."

                                            >You plant a small kiss on her forehead and tighten the hug.

                                            >Oh, your sweet filly, how you made her hurt.

                                            >It hurts your heart to know how much she aches but it was for the better.

                                            >Maybe now she can understand how much you do for her, so that she can have a bright future.

                                            >A future all of Equestria's generations will experience.

                                            "Now, how about lunch?"