Kindsay Dearest

Kindsay has many strengths--she's great with technology and decoding print.  But social skills?  I remember when she was in preschool and I'd ask her how her day was.  She couldn't answer the question.  I started asking her the question and then answered it for her so she could hear the proper response with hopes that she would eventually start answering me herself. 
"What did you have for lunch?  I had mac n cheese." etc.
When she'd have friends over, before all the little girls outgrew her, I'd have to sit in the next room and facilitate her dialogue so the friend could understand what she is trying to say.  Now she's a great talker, and question asker, and truth teller (to a fault), but making and keeping friends is still in the works.  Don't believe me?  Let me enlighten you.
You've heard of her friend Alli, and the teacher tells me Alli can be very mean and nasty to Kindsay.  She tells Kindsay lies, according to teacher, and says stuff like "my church told me not to talk to you anymore" and "I can't be your friend" and so on.  From what I'm told, at school there is constant turmoil.  Oh I believe it.  The many afternoons of the door slamming upon her arrival and the hours of self-chats while sitting on the toilet are perfect evidence of this.  Finally, Kindsay's teacher tells me that she's not taking Alli's crap anymore.  At first I was glad to hear that she is standing up for herself and not letting someone walk all over her.  Then, I found my phone and all that was added to it.
Where's my phone? I asked myself while frantically searching the last place I put it.  Ahh, wait a minute, I have a teenager without a phone, so that's where mine is.  Kindsay, sure enough, has my phone plugged into her wall and is texting like a scandalous fifteen-year-old while under her massive down comforter.  I can see the light under the white blanket with the perfect dome peaking where her head is.  "Kindsay!"  Lights out because she's slammed the phone onto her lap and played possum, which was useless because she sits three feet tall on her bed.  She reluctantly hands it to me, all the while the look of the devil in her eye as she suspicously watches me check my phone for her activity.  She's guilty...guilty guilty, so I quickly scan through the texts.  A scorned woman she was too...the texts were so furiously created and sent that Alli's sister finally texted to please stop.  I immediately texted by an apology, then choked as I pulled up her texts.  The contents were atrocious and certainly containing words I don't want any child to be the recipient of (nothing vulgar, just mean like "you have the face of a butt.")  I called out to Greg who looked them over, and as I walked into the garage to run an errand I can hear him light her up.  Busted.  But even with all the hormonal nasty girl teen dirt she can pull out of herself, Kindsay isn't threatening or scary at all, rude yes, but not scary, though she tries with all her faculties to bring fear into her enemies.  Why don't I just show you what I am talking about?
This picture was sent to Alli with the following text (exactly how it was sent, mind you):  Several "pist" faces follow with more similarly angry texts. 


I am mad and pist at you ***(Alli's full real name here)*** you are mean to me why would you not come to my birthday mad face and pist look on my face do not call me ***name here*** please don't call me.

She then attempts to put fear into poor Alli's heart.  Here's the picture with the text just as it is sent:

I am a scary zombie white eyed girl person staring at you ***Alli's real name***

Now excuse me while I have to go in and delete each picture one at a time along with several lines of obnoxious texts that only add to my embarrassment having them sent from my phone.  There is, however, a lesson to you all--do not cross this woman without expecting to suffer the consequences, one of which will be relentless texting and harassment with pictures that just might keep you awake at night.  In the meantime, I'm teaching those social skills as fast as I can.