“What the FUCK were you thinking?”
Primrose was seated in the middle of the living room, fidgeting nervously as her husband, his sibling, and his cousin towered over her with disappointed glares. She fought back tears in a pitiful display as she mustered up a response.
“I-I don’t know…”
“‘Course not. You weren’t thinkin’ at all. Seriously, what the fuck—“
“Simmer down Spit, we ain’t here ta fling mud,” Discovery stepped in to mediate. “Let’s start by goin’ over what happened. Can you start, love?” He placed a hoof on Primrose’s shoulder.
Primrose took a deep breath. “O-our daughter believes she’s a boy, and the pageant made her feel absolutely horrid because of that?”
“He is a boy, Prim,” Somerset corrected. “And of course he feels terrible. Ya made him live a lie in front of all those ponies like an apple bein’ sold as a banana! You think this is a joke?”
“I had no idea…“
“No offense dear, but I did talk to you about this before,” Discovery pointed out. “Ya know he doesn’t like dressin’ up and bein’ girly. I told ya I was pretty sure he’s trans. Yet ya still entered him in a fancy filly contest.”
“I just thought she was playing a game! That she just needed to get back in touch with her feminine side!” Primrose pouted.
“It ain’t a fuckin’ game!” Spittoon shouted. “This ain’t just dress-up to him! Forcin’ him to live as your precious lil’ filly ain’t gonna solve anything, Prim! You’re just makin’ it worse! No wonder he ran away to Mel’s!”
“It’s just not how I raised her-“
“It ain’t got jack shit to do with how you raised him! It’s just who he is!”
“C’mon Prim, you accepted mah pronouns and respect who Ah am. How’s your own foal any different?” Somerset cocked an eyebrow.
Primrose went blank. “I…I don’t know…”
Discovery spoke up. “Hon, you told me when I explained how Som is that you were supportive of transgender folk. Our lil’ one is just being honest with ya, he loves you and just wants you to accept him just like you accepted Som. Can’t ya try that?"
“I suppose, but…how?”
“It don’t take no effort. Just acknowledge that he’s a boy for once. Stop treatin’ him like a damn filly,” Spittoon answered bluntly.
“Use his pronouns,” Somerset added. “He ain’t a she, he’s a he.”
“An’ when he wants to shop fer colt’s clothes instead of filly’s, let him. An’ call him by the name he wants. He ain’t Appletini no more, he’s Rome.” Discovery concluded. “Understand?”
Primrose nodded. “Oui oui, but…it’ll be so hard! How will I get used to all of that?”
“It ain’t about you, Princess,” Spittoon rolled her eyes. “You’ll be fine. This is about him.”
“Jus’ don’t make a big deal out of it! It’ll become habit in no time.” Somerset affirmed.
“The sooner you start, darlin’, the better off y’all will be,” Discovery smiled. “It’s important for both you and him.”
“I see,” Primrose acknowledged. “Oh, I owe her—him an apology, don’t I?“
The Apples glanced at each other and nodded.
”Eeyup.”