Spike Has Three Mommies

Chapter Eight

When she came downstairs, Rarity was greeted with the sight of a colossal mess. Sketch paper scattered across the floor, a cabinet tipped over onto its side, and precious gems lying on the carpet—right on the carpet!

She groaned in despair. Even Sweetie Belle hadn’t been this bad as a child. How could she manage two toddlers on her own?

Slowly, she lifted her head. It wasn’t impossible. She may not have handled babies herself, but she’d hosted more sleepovers with Sweetie Belle’s friends than she cared to remember.

And if Fluttershy can do it, Rarity vowed, then so can I! I’ll be the very spirit of generosity!

“Pound Cake? Pumpkin Cake?” She scanned the living room carefully. “Where are you? Please come out here! I promise I’m not mad!”

Somewhere to her right, she heard giggling. Rarity sighed. It seemed as though they wanted to be difficult. She lowered her glasses into place and stared over the entire room.

With deep concentration, she began to work.

Six rays of blue light extended out from behind her back, taking the shape of elastic arms and hands. One pair set the cabinet upright again. Another pair swept up the sketch papers and precious gems into a small tornado that landed them all perfectly inside the cabinet’s shelves. Blue fingers extended themselves around the papers and gems, separating the two as before.

Meanwhile, Rarity focused on her last pair of magical arms toward the couch in the corner. As she guided her reach behind the couch, she smiled and focused as she conjured up Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake into the air. The little boy and girl didn’t seem to mind having been found and waved their arms in joy.

“Oh, what am I going to do with you?” Rarity asked herself.

“I wan’ food!” Pound Cake called out. He and his sister began to nod vigorously.

Rarity frowned. “I was being rhetorical—” She stopped herself and forced a smile. “Never mind, children. Let’s see what your Auntie Rarity has for lunch!”

She waved her hand, dropping the twins closer to the floor. As they kicked their legs, Rarity glared and added, “Ah, ah! No running!”

They nodded back. But as soon as the magic arms dissolved, they bolted straight for the kitchen, squealing and laughing uproariously.

Rarity watched them go, starting to have second thoughts about this babysitting ordeal.

Blue arms raced around the kitchen, cracking eggs and whipping them through several bowls and frying pans. A dash of pepper here, a pat of butter there, and a lovely floral arrangement on the dining table. The twins watched from the other side of the table, whispering to each other in some bizarre dialect that Rarity couldn’t make out.

“Lunch is served!” she declared, setting down their plates and glasses. “Omelettes de Rareté with a slice of pear and a glass of sparkling lemonade! Bon appétit!”

Pumpkin Cake stared at her meal in confusion. She poked at the omelette with her finger, then shook her head. “Eww! It’s wobbly!”

“Wibbly-wobbly!” Pound Cake chimed in. He shook his head in disgust. “Bleah!”

“It is supposed to be wobbly!” Rarity asserted. Then, trying to remember how Fluttershy would handle things, she took her hands off her hips and clasped them together like she was a teacher in front of her class. “Won’t you give it a try? Please?”

“I wan’ Pinkie Pie!” said Pumpkin Cake.

“Pinkie Pie!” Pound Cake agreed enthusiastically. They started to chant her name, pounding their little fists on the table. “Pinkie Pie! Pinkie Pie! Pinkie Pie! Pinkie Pie!”

Despair overtook Rarity once again. She turned away and headed for the fridge, hoping she could find something simpler—something the kids would find more to their liking.

As she began her fruitless search, she felt cold inside. Rarity had to admit it at last. She could never hope to compete with Fluttershy. Kind, sensitive Fluttershy, friend to children and animals everywhere. And meanwhile, Rarity was brimming with unspent generosity. She could mend or make a dress like no other, but childrearing? It simply wasn’t in her nature.

And where had Fluttershy gone, Rarity wondered. Was she still upstairs with Spike? Hoarding him all to herself?

The cold pit in Rarity’s stomach suddenly grew hot. No, she decided. Fluttershy might’ve been better with the twins, but no one was better with Spike than Rarity.

“No one,” she whispered bitterly.