A love letter to competent kids

I am always in search of a 14-year-old girl. And not for any nefarious reason.

It's just that that's when my life was really wonderful – when I had immediate access to two smart, dextrous, no-nonsense daughters who could alphabetize, fold clothing, sort anything and develop spreadsheets like nobody's business.

And who had to do exactly what I wanted because I was the mom.

I'll never have better employees, because these two never wanted to talk about anything - they just wanted to get done and get out of the house. The scissors would fly, the printer would roar, the boxes would appear faster than anyone had the right to expect. 

And then they were out. No chit-chatting, no smoke breaks, no follow-up questions. No opinions.

I keep telling myself I must be getting old and feeble-minded - that's why I can't get everything done. But the real reason is that the best little assistants in Texas are now all grown up. Doing what they do . . . for reals.

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