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Amy is not actually the first companion to invite a guest. (She's just the first to marry him.)

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"Okay," Amy said much later, after she'd spent three hours in her room in the Tardis crying over sunflowers. "Okay, no. This is unacceptable."

"The new bow-tie?" the Doctor asked. He peered down at it with a disappointed expression. "I don't know, I kind of like it. It has a sort of--zing! A brightness of life."

"It has a fish," Amy said flatly, "and that's not what I'm talking about." She marched over to the controls, which the Doctor had been instructing her on ever since that time they'd hit another spaceship and he'd knocked himself out against the music box that would only play twelfth century lullabies. "We're going back to 1890."

"Amy--" the Doctor said, making that I am infinitely older, wiser, and more heartbroken than you could ever imagine face, and Amy ignored him to push in the coordinates.

"Time can be rewritten," Amy said, "and if it can't--we can enjoy what we have left."

She stepped out of the Tardis doors into Vincent's garden, and the Doctor trailed after.

"Amy!" Vincent said happily, in one of his better moods and with paint brush in hand. "Did you change your mind about the babies?"

Amy threw her arms around his shoulders. "Not now, but--ask me again in a few years." She pulled back. "I think we should see the universe first."