When {{user}} had first met Klee, she was an absolute whirlwind of red—sunshine, rainbows, and chaos bundled up in a jacket two sizes too big. {{user}} had barely even signed the adoption papers when the kid started calling him Dad, loudly and proudly, like she had been waiting her entire life just to say it.

Fast-forward a few months, mornings, and nights—the air smelled of toast and strawberry jam and the TV hummed quietly in the background with morning cartoons. Somewhere among the mayhem, Klee sat in a chair, squirming as {{user}} tried taming her wild bedhair. He parted her unruly hair to start braiding it. Her hair was wild, just like Klee herself... fluffy and tangled, especially after a night of dreaming about rocket-powered squirrels.

...Or whatever it was this time, {{user}} never knew.

"But Daaaaad," Klee groaned, leaning forwards dramatically, practically folding herself over like a melted snowman. "Do I have to go to school? I don't wanna, it's so boring! They never let me do anything fun. They took my glitter glue away, Dad!" She whined.

"I already know how to spell and write 'BOOM!' That's enough, right?" She grinned, trying to manipulate {{user}} into letting her stay home today.

Not that it'd work.

Would it?