Another Text-a-Thon

Kindsay uses my phone to call her friend, Haylee, and text some of her old friends.  Fine...I've gone over with her how to text (text once and if they do not respond, no more), how to call people (only call once and leave a message, do not call repeatedly if there's no answer), and how to answer calls while on the phone (which she neglected to do the other day and caused serious headaches for us.)  Every once in a while I have to take the phone away to punish her for abusing the privilege or for racking up costs because she dialed *411 over and over and over (grrrrr...$2 per call!)...but she's gotten real sneaky.  She figured out that to avoid getting busted for abusing the texting, she deletes her texts, then the only way I know about anything is if there is a return text.  As soon as she texts...delete.  How did I find this out?  The charming text  received the other morning which had to do with
"Really??  170 texts in 5 minutes?"  Something about me oughta bein' ashamed of myself for such behavior...I need my mouth washed out with soap for using such language...does my mother know I talk like that?  Her 8-yr-old has better manners and common sense...and THIS is why kids shouldn't have cell phones.  Also, since there is record of the literal 170 texts in 5 minutes, the police could very well be involved if there is another contact.
Oh crap.
And of course, her texts are erased from my phone, but someone out there thinks I, Yvette, am out of my mind.  So I text the person back apologizing for my daughter's behavior...and by the way, what kind of language are we talking about? 
I get a text back soon after...someone from Oklahoma thanking me for apologizing.  The language?  Well...it was all erased, but it was pretty bad.  And wouldn't you know the woman's child was in the ER all night so she couldn't turn off her phone...she was forced to endure Kindsay's wrath.  Over what?  Now the puzzle pieces are fitting into place and creating the picture I am reluctant to look at. 
"I make and sell dolls and your daughter was mad that I wouldn't give her one for free." 
OK--How many times have I gone over this with her...a million---and one. 
"I pay $100 for the material and sell them for $200."
a two hundred dollar doll....?????
uuuuuhhhhhh.....
OK...again, sorry about that. Won't happen again--and "whew" that Kindsay didn't swipe my credit card and doesn't know my Paypal account info...I'd probably own this stinking doll.
I get another text..."If you'd like I can give you a discount and sell you one for $150...I wish I could just give her one but I can't."
At that point I imagined the all the dolls that now line up in a row on Kindsay's floor, each birthday and Christmas when she gets a new one, how it goes through the same process of Kindsay love--stripped, Vasolined up the rear, diapered, and fed when it doesn't have a hole for food.  They get strapped into car seats, strollers, into the back seat of my car...how many times have I jumped after glancing in my rear view and seeing Chucky eyes staring at me?  They sit on her floor, loved but unloved, staring into space wondering "how" "why"....they look like something out of Sid's bedroom in Toy Story...am I going to pay $150 for something to go through that?
No thanks, I text her, she treats them like real babies so she isn't interested in a doll on a shelf. 
Will she ever want a doll that sits on the shelf, having never been hazed like her Walmart collection of cheapies?  At this point, it doesn't matter...the moment I approached Kindsay about her behavior she dropped her head in shame, knowing that she crossed the line.  What on earth kind of words were you using?  What did you say to this lady?  "I called her a fat pig."  OK...there had to be other choice words, but I didn't want to hear them...fat pig was rude enough.  I would've washed her mouth out, but seeing as how she can probably throw me down, I left her with a severe scolding. She might've spent an evening offending a complete stranger across the country, but all the dolls across the world are in unison sighing relief that one was spared...this time.