I’ll do most anything so my
little ones should know.
I left no path unturned.

With two pigtails to hold her curls.
Her heart is five. Her soul is old.

Mommy Anna says: let me tell you a story
about my doll Mr. Cranky

I think to my self: she’s probably referring to…

Anna: Mr. Cranky is getting old that’s why he’s so miserable.
He can’t eat eggs or cheese and please don’t give him a soda or he’ll pop. If you see him coming stay out of his way especially when
she’s writing poetry.

Me: Hey you’re talking about…

Anna: Mom you’ve gotta let me finish…
When she’s writing, it is like.
Mommy, poetry and write, like the wind and poetry
don’t bother me now. Poetry stop.
What’s that now? Po-etry again…

A little tale of truth from my youngest daughter Anna`your Kindness sister Krissy Mosley