It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon. I had returned from my route earlier than usual, and because I still had some energy left, I was making muffins. They were oatmeal muffins, a favorite of my daughter. I was just taking them out of the oven when I heard the door open and close. Smiling, I turned as Dinky trotted into the kitchen.
“Hello, my muffin!”
“Hi, mommy!” she chirped, stopping to nuzzle me.
“Would you like a snack, Dinky?” I asked, handing her one of the still-toasty muffins and beaming.
Her eyes widened, and she snatched the muffin and inhaled deeply. “Mmm! Thank you, mommy!”
Smiling, I was about to turn and leave the room to store the rest of the pastries when Dinky abruptly asked, “Mommy, what does retarded mean?”
I stiffened in the doorway. It was an innocent and perfectly justifiable inquiry, five little words spoken in a genuinely curious tone. And I had no idea how to answer.
I stayed where I was. “Where did you hear that word, sweetheart?” I asked in a light tone.
She probably heard somepony say it in town today, or maybe an older pony mentioned it to her in passing. She’s probably not asking for the reason I think she is…
But her reply only confirmed my terrible gut feeling. “Well...some colts at school yelled it at me when I was waiting for you to pick me up. They said…they said you were retarded. They said your eyes were weird. I think…I think they were being mean, Mommy.” All this was said in a serious and concerned tone.
My aforementioned eyes blurred, and I felt my heart sink down to my hooves. Oh, no…surely what happened to me when I was a filly would not, could not happen to my daughter. Why, Celestia?
I felt an unwelcome memory assault me, rising unbidden from the depths of my mind…
“Hey, Ditz!”
I stiffened, wincing at the all too familiar voices. I was almost out of the schoolyard, almost free from any danger of their omnipresent torment, but as usual I had begun my flight too late. Every day as I waited for Mom, the colts at school would find me, torment me. They were my own private devils, and nothing could keep them back for long. I heaved a sigh, and kept going, eyes staring as straight ahead as possible. Just ignore them…
“Hey, Derpwad! I brought Thunder here to show him your freaky eyes. I told him it was a great show. Come on, don’t disappoint your audience!”
“Yeah,” one of them snickered, “being a freak show’s all you’re good for, anyway!”
“Maybe you can hire yourself to a circus! It’s not like they’ll want somepony who can’t even see to fly straight to take care of the weather. I’ll bet you can’t even read with those,” cackled another.
Gritting my teeth, I walked a little faster, but still they followed me. “Wait up, Derpwad!” I heard one shout at my retreating back, “we were just thinkin’ about what your cutie mark will be! Probably something stupid, like a bird flyin’ in circles.”
“Or a really stupid-looking clown face!”
I couldn’t help it. I whirled around to face my assailants, shaking in fury. “What, like yours?” I snapped at them.
But my comeback, clever as it was, was drowned out by their laughter. Too late I realized that turning around had given them a clear and unhindered view of my eyes, which, in my anger and distress, were turned in completely opposite directions. “Ha! You were right! Look how stupid she looks!” crowed a dark pegasus I didn’t recognize—probably Thunder—rolling on the ground in cruel mirth.
“I know, right? She’s such a retard…”
I began to run towards Whitetail forest as fast as I could go, sobbing, as their laughter faded away into the distance.
A soft, sweet little voice snapped me out of my reverie. “Mommy? Are you okay?” I looked down to see Dinky beside me, beautiful golden eyes filled with concern.
I looked down at her. “I…I’m sorry, sweetie. What did you want to know?”
Even when repeated, her question still hurt. I exhaled softly. “Well…” I began slowly, trying to find a way to explain the word and its crueler use to a filly, “somepony who is retarded thinks differently from most ponies. That pony…maybe thinks a little slower than you do. Maybe they can’t do some of the things you can do or can’t learn at the same pace as you. Other ponies might think they are stupid, when really they most certainly are not.” I crossed the room and sat down next to her, biting my lower lip. “Sometimes…sometimes ponies call somepony who is different retarded. Maybe that pony is perfectly smart and nice, but can’t read very quickly or speaks differently…” I trailed off and looked away to hide my tears, “…or has strange-looking eyes.”
“Mommy…are you crying?” Dinky sounded very distressed, gently pawing my foreleg, “Did I say something wrong?”
I was crying, and it hurt to think that my wonderful daughter thought it was her fault. I suddenly turned and enfolded her in a big bear hug, pulling her close to me and burying my nose in her mane. Her diminutive horn poked my muzzle gently as the tears slid down and into her fur. “You didn’t say anything wrong, Dinky, honey. Those colts were being very, very mean, and not just to you and me. Just know that I am not retarded, and neither are you, and anything those colts say to you is probably not nice. They want to hurt you and me because it makes them feel good about themselves. I know, because when I was a little filly, the colts at school said the very same thing to me.” It took all my control to choke back the sob rising in my throat. “Just ignore anything they say to you, because you are very smart and sweet and wonderful and you don’t deserve it…”
“Okay, Mommy, I will! But please stop crying.”
Sniffing, I pulled away and gave her a watery smile. “Alright, Dinky. Thank you for asking. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mommy.”
