“Uhh…I know you don’t really like fancy stuff, but I…wanted to make things nice for a change.” She swallows a lump in her throat and trots over to her chair with the lost look still in her eye. She hops on and holds the edge with her fore hooves as you push it in too close to the table. Ponies’ heads are centered over their forelegs when they sit, not their hips. You correct your misjudgment and pull her out until it looks more comfortable for her but feels more awkward for you. Hastily taking your seat at the other end of the table you watch anxiously as her eyes dart from her plate to her glass to the vase of flowers. 