The next morning, her parents actually showed up for the birthday breakfast. They gave her a tablet, a drone, and a gift certificate for a “curated pony experience.” Penelope smiled her fake smile. She put on a little pink dress. She became the perfect daughter.
Not mine. The diary.
Sometimes the most honest truth doesn’t go in a fancy locked book. Sometimes it goes in the pocket of a tired nanny who decided not to leave. miss penelope dork diaries
“Also,” she added, “I wrote that you’re the first nanny who didn’t cry. And that you smell like coffee and bad decisions. That’s a compliment.” The next morning, her parents actually showed up
“Yes, Miss Chaos Demon?”
“ I’m Penelope,” she said, smearing more cream on the cat’s ear. “You have to pick a new name. Or I will call you ‘Fart Cloud.’” She became the perfect daughter