Coming Home

Violet Skye was born on a crisp summer day, in a sprawling suburb of Manehattan, to two loving and caring parents. She was a healthy, happy foal, often one to get into mischief from time to time. For the longest time, she could be considered the luckiest foal alive, with being raised in an affluent family, one that was a cornerstone of Manehattan history.

She learned how to walk and trot at a very young age, and speaking came soon after that. At times, guests and family members thought she was gifted, but she was just rather a very early bloomer when compared to most ponies. Her parents and family loved her to pieces, and for years, everything went according to plan. That all changed one fateful day, roughly three years after her birth.

That day, was the first day her parents were going to try potty training. It was normal for any foal of that age to begin the process of learning how to use the potty, just like a big colt or filly. What her parents didn’t realize, was that her bladder had not yet fully developed, and she couldn’t learn how to use the potty yet.

Violet Skye’s parents were considered perfect by all definitions of the word. Perfect lives, perfect family, perfect jobs, perfect genetics… perfect everything. They expected nothing but the best, and received nothing but the best, especially with their older foals. If they didn’t get perfection, they often resorted to any tactic to get it, including brute force.

“Come on sweetie, just sit on the potty. You can do it,” her mother coaxed her, as the young filly was uncertain of whether or not the potty was safe. “Oh- OK mommy,” she answered, still unsure and skeptical.

She hoisted herself up onto the big pony potty. “I did it mommy,” she cried out in glee. “I’m on the big potty.” Her mother smiled in agreement, and clapped in pride. “Great job sweetie. Now, can you try and go potty?”

“I’ll try mommy,” Violet Skye replied. She sat there for a few moments, and tried to see if anything would come out. After a while, she went, “Mommy, I can’t go. Nothing’s coming out.”

Her mother sat there, perplexed. “Alright Skye, we’ll try again later. Go on and play.” She lifted Violet Skye off the potty, put her diaper back on, and she ran off and played once more.

A few minutes later, her mother came in to check on her, and noticed a yellow stain on her diaper. “Sweetie, why didn’t you go when you were sitting on the potty?”

Violet Skye looked perplexed, then she looked down at her diaper. She had no idea that she even went. “Mommy, I didn’t know I had to go. I didn’t feel it.”

Her mother sighed, then answered “It’s OK, sweetie. Maybe we’ll try again later.” She would then change Violet Skye’s diaper, and let her continue to play. After a week of the same behavior, her mother thought nothing of it. After a month, she thought Violet Skye was just a little late. A year later, and she became worried. She hadn’t experienced anything like this with her older foals, and especially couldn’t understand it given how early of a bloomer Violet Skye was with everything else. She was dumbfounded, to say the least.