One morning, about an hour before dawn, Derpy’s alarm clock went off. The alarm, however, failed to wake her up. This was because her alarm clock was so damaged that it no longer rang. Instead, it merely vibrated on its night stand for several minutes before falling off. On any normal day, this would have been the end of gray pegasus’ pre-morning routine, and she would have later awakened to the rising sun. Today, however, was not a normal day. Today was the second Sunday of the month. Today was the day that Derpy would make breakfast for Dinky.

Derpy never missed a ‘Second Sunday’ breakfast. For this reason, she had modified her alarm clock. Most ponies, when confronted with a broken alarm clock, would say, “This alarm clock is broken. I must either have it fixed or replaced.”

Derpy, however, had a unique way of thinking. Instead, when she looked at her broken alarm clock, she said, “This alarm clock no longer wakes me up. I must change the way it functions so that it will continue to wake me up.”

This is why when the alarm clock fell from the nightstand, it did not land on the floor, but instead hung in the air. Her alarm clock was tied to a string, whose other end was tied to Derpy’s tail, which was—of course—attached to Derpy, who was asleep in a hammock, which was suspended across her room. Derpy always enjoyed having some space between her resting place and the ground. It may not have been a cloud, but it was still comfortable. The alarm clock dangled in the air like a pendulum, vibrating silently.

With the extra weight on her tail, Derpy’s subconscious had her roll over. When that failed to produce any meaningful results, she rolled over again and ran out of a hammock to roll over in. With a crash, Derpy landed on her alarm clock, turning it off.

Derpy cracked open her eyes and tried to figure out why her bed was suddenly so uncomfortable. One of her eyes focused on her night stand, making her wonder how it had gotten on the ceiling. Her other eye looked at her door, hammock, window, and floor, making her realize that she had fallen from her bed again, that the lump under her was her alarm clock, and that she had better get up now if she was going to make breakfast before Dinky woke up.

Derpy’s eyes opened completely. Most breakfasts Dinky ate were already-prepared meals purchased from a store, like a muffin; or food that required no preparation at all, like an apple. Derpy knew that mothers were supposed to cook for their children. There were, after all, magazine articles about it.

However, she had a problem. As much as she hated to admit it, she was no good at baking. Anything she that did involving dough, ovens, or baking trays—to name just a few—turned out horribly wrong. Even finished baked goods had a tendency to behave oddly if she spent too much time near them and not enough time eating them. Still, Dinky loved baked goods, especially for breakfast, so Derpy would bake and hope she could make at least some of it edible.

Derpy untangled her legs from her wings, untied the string on her tail, and set her alarm clock back on her nightstand. She opened her door and stepped out into the hallway. From there she made her way to Dinky’s room and, ever so quietly, opened the door. The little, purple unicorn filly was still asleep in her bed, hooves clutching her stuffed teddy bear. Derpy smiled and watched her daughter sleep for a few moments before she returned to the hall and gently shut the door.

Derpy walked into her kitchen and surveyed it. This would be a battle. A battle she couldn't lose. A battle she couldn’t even bear the thought of losing. From this moment until Dinky awoke, Derpy would fight on for her daughter's breakfast. The enemy was her own inability to bake. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. When she had calmed herself, she stepped onto the battlefield.

Simple measures had to be made first before tackling the bigger obstacles. From the cupboard, Derpy grabbed a plate with a smiling face drawn on it and set it on the kitchen table. That plate was Dinky’s favorite. Derpy found the utensils and set them out. She could never remember which side of the plate each utensil was supposed to go on, so she made a circle of them around the plate instead.

Next, a backup plan had to be found and secured in case of disaster. She walked to the pantry doors and slid them open. Her eyes wandered over the cans and packages until she spotted two new boxes of cereal. She grabbed a box and, with a flick of her neck, sent it flying towards the kitchen table. Accuracy was unnecessary for this stage. She repeated this with the second box, ignoring the crunch it made as it slammed against the far wall.

Derpy looked at the fruit basket hanging next to the refrigerator. It was, as expected, full of fruit. She grabbed more fruit than her hooves could carry and flew towards the countertop. She dropped a banana and a grapefruit along the way. Acceptable losses.

With the fruit and cereal backup plan in place, Derpy prepared for the battle’s real challenge: baking.

Pancakes. Everypony loved pancakes. Dinky especially. Derpy grabbed the necessary ingredients and placed them on the counter next to the fruit. Bowls, spoons, a skillet, and a spatula were placed in a pile. She was ready. With a determined look, Derpy began her attack.

Eggs first. From the refrigerator, they came. Holding the egg in her mouth, Derpy carefully rapped it against the side of the bowl. The egg shell shattered out the back instead of the front, filling Derpy’s mouth. She fought against gagging and spat the egg into the trash.

The enemy had made itself known.

Derpy grabbed another egg. She knew a different approach would have to be taken. This time she spat out the egg towards the rim of the bowl. It struck perfectly and cracked in two. The enemy was one step ahead though, and instead of the expected raw egg, a baby chicken popped out. The chick walked around the bowl, peeping, then looked up towards the gray pegasus. Derpy wasn’t mad at the chick. It was, ultimately, just an unwitting agent of the enemy. It could be considered a miracle that the chick had even survived its trip from farm to store to refrigerator to bowl. On any other day, Derpy would have named the chick Peeps and raised it as a pet, but today was serious.

She moved the bowl with the chick to the side and a procured a new bowl. Derpy tried repeatedly to crack open the eggs. Hoof strikes, knife strikes, air drops; any method was used to remove the shells. After a few minutes, she had a bowl full of raw eggs, a small amount of egg shell, and thankfully, no more baby chickens.

Derpy had heard from a wise pony that you shouldn't keep all of your eggs in one basket. Taking that statement to a further conclusion, she realized that you shouldn't keep all your opened eggs in one bowl either. She poured half of her egg mixture into a redundant bowl and set it next to the chick’s bowl. Derpy was ready for the next step.

Flour, baking soda, milk, salt, sugar, and butter; all the remaining ingredients were added to the bowl and stirred to combine. Derpy was getting worried. The enemy hadn't shown up in a while. She knew it waited, watching for the perfect opportunity. She placed the skillet on the stove and turned on the heat. When the skillet was hot, she spooned the batter in, forming three circles. She grasped the spatula in her mouth and waited. After a few minutes of listening to the pancakes sizzle, she flipped them onto their other side. The pancakes were perfectly browned. She glanced around her kitchen, eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The enemy would be striking soon. Derpy just had to find out where and be rea—

There! When she had moved her bowl, she had accidentally knocked the bread box too close to the edge, and it was starting to fall. Derpy spat out the spatula and rushed towards the bread box as it tilted over the edge. She dove forward, using her wings to propel herself faster. The enemy would not have the bread.

Derpy learned that diving forward and using her wings for extra speed was a great way to cover distance fast. However, it was unnecessary when she was only three feet away from the object she was diving for.

Her entire kitchen shook as she crashed into a cabinet and broke its hinges. The bread box landed next to her with a thump and opened.

Derpy shook her head and tried to clear away the tweeting birds. She had little success until she realized the noise was actually the peeping chick on the countertop above. She looked at the bread box and saw that it, and the bread inside, was completely undamaged. She smiled at her good luck. This appeared to be a sign. A sign that toast should be included with Dinky’s breakfast.

Derpy moved the bread box back to its place on the countertop and stuck her muzzle inside of it. It was then that she smelled the smoke. She knew that she hadn't purchased smoke-scented bread, so that left three possible reasons for the smell.

Quickly, Derpy grabbed a mouthful of bread slices, crammed them into her toaster, and pressed down on the lever. She then turned her head and discovered the smoke smell was coming from reason number two; her pancakes were on fire.

It had been a distraction. The enemy hadn’t attacked the bread, but had used it to get Derpy to turn her back. This was a costly mistake on her part. She quickly bit onto the skillet’s handle, dumped the whole thing into the sink, and turned on the water. After a few seconds, the fire was out, and she shut off the water.

Derpy mourned the loss of her pancakes. They had been potentially edible. Now they were a charred, soggy mess. She was about to try again with the rest of her batter, when she heard the sound of shattering glass. She turned and saw that a drinking glass, which had been knocked over from her earlier crash, had rolled out of the cupboard, fell, and broke apart in the rest of her batter.

Broken eggshells, while unwanted, were edible. Broken glass? Not so much.

Again, the smell of smoke. She pushed her toaster into the sink and turned on the water. It was then that she remembered another of life's lessons involving water and electricity.

Derpy mourned the loss of her toaster. It had been a brave little toaster, always toasting things. This toaster had lasted a week longer than the last one. She was not discouraged, though. She still had the rest of the bread, the redundant bowl of eggs, and a baby chick. One of her eyes wandered over to the chick’s bowl and noticed that it had escaped somewhere into her home. The losses were high this morning, but Derpy would not surrender. Dinky would have her homemade breakfast.

Carefully, Derpy slid a plate of bread into the microwave. Toasters cooked things. Microwaves also cooked things. Ergo, microwaves could make toast. There wasn’t a toast setting on her microwave, so she set it for ten minutes. She would have to keep one of her eyes on it to know when it was done.

With the toast cooking, she turned back to the bowl of eggs. She could try making pancakes again, but the enemy would be expecting that. Instead, Derpy would make the perfect baked good: the muffin.

Derpy had once made a list of the reasons why muffins were the perfect food. Three hundred reasons, to be precise. They were all a variation of one simple fact: muffins were delicious. Derpy’s homemade muffins, however, were hard to classify as muffins. The word ‘muffinesque’ would even be a stretch, but that was the idea. There was one way to trick the enemy. If she didn't know she was baking, then the enemy wouldn’t either. She turned on the oven, closed her eyes and set about her work. She knew her kitchen like the back of her hoof, after all.

Derpy found a bag of what was possibly flour and poured it into the bowl that was possibly full of eggs. She continued blindly grabbing ingredients and adding them to her bowl. When she was certain the bowl contained enough stuff, she bit onto a large wooden spoon and began stirring.

After a minute, the spoon would no longer stir. Derpy opened her eyes. One eye looked at the obviously defective spoon. Her other eye looked at the empty bag of potato chips, the half-full carton of orange juice, the block of cheese, and the other ad-libbed ingredients.

Derpy looked at the back of her hoof in confusion. She had apparently not known it very well after all. However, it was too late to try again. Dinky would be waking up soon.

The microwave dinged, reminding Derpy that she couldn’t keep an eye on something when they were both closed. She looked at the burning toast within. Into the sink, the plate went.

Derpy gulped as the flames were extinguished. Things had been going so bad, the backup plan might have to be initiated soon. However, she still had one more chance. She opened her oven and placed the bowl of what might have passed for batter inside. After a few seconds of thought, Derpy tossed some slices of bread in with it and shut the door.

Cereal—when poured by somepony that was desperate—counted as a homemade breakfast. Derpy rushed to the boxes of cereal she had tossed earlier and placed them on the table. She opened box number one, revealing nothing but little prize bags full of toys. Something must have gone wrong at the packaging center. Dinky would love the toys, but she couldn’t eat them, seeing as they were made of inedible plastic as well as being a choking hazard. Box number two was opened, and the contents made Derpy frown. The cereal inside had been reduced to a fine powder. Somepony had been careless with handling this box.

With cereal out of the equation, Derpy turned to her fruit. It was at this point in Derpy’s frantic kitchen warfare that the law of probabilities caught up with her. The grapefruit, ignored until now, had earlier landed in precisely the correct location that Derpy, who was now distraught and not looking down, stepped on it with a rear hoof. Physics took over as the gray pegasus’ hoof slipped out from under her. Her forward momentum combined with her now oddly angled hind leg caused her to flip backwards. The grapefruit launched away from her and bounced off a cabinet. Derpy, now upside down and falling, landed on her back, and her head landed on something that was, thankfully, softer than her tile floor.

The impact with the cabinet had split the grapefruit in two. One half sailed over Derpy and towards the kitchen table. The other half landed in her face. Derpy closed one eye as grapefruit juice stung it. Her other eye watched a banana, sent flying from when her head landed on it, hit the wall next to the kitchen table. The banana’s skin split open when it smacked into the wall and sent the fruit inside flying in the opposite direction. The peeled banana and grapefruit half then collided in midair and dropped onto the plate Derpy had set out earlier.

The kitchen was quiet for a long time. When what had just happened finally sunk into Derpy’s head, she started to smile. The enemy would be furious. The enemy made little differentiation on what it attacked once Derpy started baking. Fruit, cereal, bread boxes; anything was fair game once her inability to bake started happening, but the smiling plate was different. That was Dinky’s plate. Once food was placed on that plate, it was on a sacred ground and no longer part of the battle. Dinky would at least have fruit for breakfast and maybe even something more.

Derpy looked through the glass window on her oven. The batter in the bowl had expanded greatly and turned a nice golden brown. Even the toast looked good, or at least, not on fire. The enemy must have given up once she had succeeded with the fruit. A ding from the oven timer let Derpy know that the ‘muffin’ was ready. She bit into a mouth mitt and pulled open the oven’s door.

Suddenly, Derpy was on her back again. Her head throbbed, and her ears rang. She slowly opened her eyes and found that the world looked a whole lot blurrier and much more upside down than normal. She tried to make sense of what had happened, but her thoughts felt like they were marching through mud. Something smacked against the floor near her head. One of her eyes looked to see what it was and noticed a pile of crumbs. The other eye looked up and saw small brown objects flying past every couple of seconds.

Derpy’s senses slowly came back together. The enemy. It had launched one final assault when she had let her guard down. She rolled onto her side and turned her head towards the oven. The bowl of batter had spilled over, and little lumps of it kept popping and flying out. The toast surrounding the bowl was on fire. It reminded Derpy of the time when she had found out why popcorn had to be cooked with a cover. The toast hadn’t fared well that day either. Had she accidentally added popcorn to the muffin mix?

Then a sound came from down the hall. Even in the noise of the enemy’s attack, Derpy knew what it was. It was a soft sound that a pony could only recognize by hearing it most every day for years. Dinky had woken up. Her first stop would be the bathroom and from there, the kitchen. Derpy only had mere minutes to fix this.

Derpy got up. Her body didn’t want to move, but she didn’t care. She was going to end this now. She moved toward the oven. The enemy was angry. It didn’t like her to succeed. Again and again, the lumps of muffin shot out of the oven. Again and again, Derpy moved just before they hit her. Dinky was awake now. She would have her breakfast. There was nothing the enemy could do about it.

Derpy reached the oven, placed her hooves on the door and began to lift it back to the closed position. One lump of the batter remained in the bowl. It was shaped somewhat like a muffin. It was golden brown. It was waiting for this moment and sprang out at her. Derpy quickly bit down, slammed the oven shut and turned it off. She calmly walked to Dinky’s plate and set the muffin on it. She tasted the crumbs left in her mouth. The muffin wasn’t delicious, but it wasn’t bad either.

Derpy looked at Dinky’s plate. A grapefruit, banana, and muffin would be a satisfying meal by themselves, but something else was needed. She looked around the kitchen and knew what it was. The bread box had a single slice of bread left in it. She grabbed the bread, placed it on the table next to the plate, then looked at it expectantly. After a few seconds, the bread caught on fire, and Derpy blew it out. She then flipped the toast onto Dinky’s plate just as the kitchen door opened.

Dinky walked into the kitchen and yawned out, “Good morning, Mommy.”

“Good morning, Muffin.”

Dinky giggled at the use of her nickname. Derpy pulled out the chair and her daughter into it. Dinky looked at her food and turned towards her mother. “Thanks, mommy! You always make the best breakfasts.”

Derpy nuzzled her daughter, producing more giggles, then let her eat. Derpy smiled as she moved through her kitchen, cleaning as she went. Today’s battle was won, but the war never ended.

A calendar hung from the refrigerator with a date circled to remind Derpy that The Worst Baker in Equestria Competition was at the end of this month. If she could win, then Dinky would have a year’s worth of free food.

Even then, the ‘Second Sunday’ tradition would continue. Some things would always be worth it.