Life According to Kiera: Email Is A Wonderful Thing

Written by Rowonna McNeely – Friday, I went to Kiera’s school for her awards assembly. She received two awards. One for Perfect Attendance and the other was a Music Award. We are pretty proud of her.

Since it was a Friday and a lot of parents attend the awards assembly, we are allowed to check out our kiddos from school after it is over. I had already made plans for Kiera to come back with me and had a snack and her tablet stowed away at work.

We entered work and I headed over to clock in. “Make sure you clock me in too, please!” Kiera called out after me.

She settled in my office with her chicken strips, milk and cartoons playing on her tablet. After a short time, she wanted to check in on everyone. “You may go tell everyone hello but, remember that if they are busy or with a customer, you can not interrupt.” I stressed to her as she stood in my office doorway.

“I know.” She acknowledged with a sigh.

“I know you know… I’m just making sure you remember.” I said in my best Mom voice.

Kiera does pretty well when she comes up to our work. She has learned how to install decals, give advice on designs, organize, cleans and even knows a little bit about taking an order.

For instance, during one visit, she cleaned my desk. Not just cleaned it… she super organized it. She began by putting my pens in the pen organizer after she chastised me for not putting them where they belonged. Then she closed my notepad… the one that I write my daily list on… and proceeded to put it in my cabinet. Everything that was on my desk was placed somewhere inside my desk.

After she was finished, she reminded me that I should clean my desk on a daily basis. This coming from the child we have to remind to put her shoes on her shoe rack and not in the dirty clothesbasket.

During her most recent visit, she resorted to dusting randomly through out the building. Once she was done, she came back to my office to draw.

The workday was almost done and I all I had left was to finish typing an email. “Mom, can I give you a tattoo?” She asked.

I was focused on typing my email and made a snap decision. “Sure, baby.” I quickly rolled up my sleeve and went back to composing my email.

Kiera reached around me and pulled out several colored pens. I did hesitate for just a minute when I saw the pens. “Honey, you can go get markers from Daddy if you want.”

“Are they washable?” She asked.

“No.” I responded.

“Well, then we don’t want to use those.” She uncapped a purple pen and held it over my upper arm. “Don’t look at what tattoo I give you until I am finished.”

 I consented and continued typing.

There was slight pressure on my arm for a couple of minutes and then… “Ow!” I jerked and glanced down to my arm.

“Don’t look!” Kiera exclaimed as she covered the tattoo with her hand.

“I wasn’t looking at the tattoo, baby. I was making sure I wasn’t bleeding.” I sarcastically replied.

She peeked through her fingers at my arm. “You are fine. Your pen wasn’t working.”

I refrained from telling her that it wouldn’t work any better, no matter how hard she pushed it. “It’s ok if you get markers from Daddy. If it doesn’t wash off, I will be ok.” I said, hinting as casually as I could.

“No. It’s ok. I don’t want to use them if they aren’t washable.” She replied nonchalantly before picking up a different ink pen.

Accepting my fate, I went back to my email. I kept quiet as the pressure intensified, mainly because all that was needed to finish the day was the last few sentences and hitting send on my email.

I was typing my signature when it happened again. “Ow!” I exclaimed as I flinched. Before I could glance at my arm, my sweet daughter straightened up to her full four-foot height and said with disdain, “Mom. You are fine. There is no blood.”

I quickly sent the email and declared the workday over. Thankfully, Kiera proclaimed she was done with the tattoo and allowed me to admire her work.

“Do you like it?” She asked with a huge smile on her face.

Looking at the hand drawn tattoo, I took in the hearts and flowers amidst the slight redness of my arm. Smiling back and drawing her in for a quick hug, I replied, “I love it, sweetie. I love it.”

Email is an amazing thing. You would never guess by reading my email that my daughter was lovingly torturing me while I composed it.

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