klynlynk

My youngest daughter, Kendra, is five and a half years old (I added the "half" there because she would probably cry if I said she was just five years old). She made a dramatic entrance into our world (complete with an electrocuted squirrel and hospital-wide power outage) and she was born with the ability to throw an Oscar-worthy temper tantrum. She is wise beyond her years, at times even wise beyond my years; her words and outlook on life can sometimes overshadow the fact that she is only five years old. So, as frustrating as it is in the moment, I often find joy in her emotional meltdowns. Some reasons why Kendra is crying, mad, or pouting: We put a big bow on her head and brought her home from the hospital. She was forced to have her picture taken with her sisters. She couldn't catch a cat. She had to take a nap. She rubbed spaghetti in her eyes. We got her sparklers on the 4th of July. We dressed her like an Arkansas Razorbac...

27 questions my teenage daughters have texted me in the last few weeks, in no particular order: Can we get Sonic or McDonald's for dinner? Where are Kendra's zip pj's? Can you take me over to Daddy's at like 12:30? Can I go with y'all? How was the concert thingy? Do you think on our way home you could drop {my friend} off? Can {my friend} still come over tonight? Can we get stuff to tye-dye tonight? Can {my friend} come over Sunday night? Do we have any locks? What time are we even supposed to even be off of our phones? Can I go with you to pick up Kendra? Can we run to {my friend}'s house real quick? Do you mind if I go to {my friend}'s for a couple hours to hang out? Can {my friend} stay the night again? Chick-Fil-A? When does {my friend} have to leave? Can we make popcorn? Can we stop and get a pizza first? Can I just go to {my friend}'s for New Years? Can we go to the movies instead of bowling? Where are y'all? Can we ...