Dewdrop in September

Once upon a time in September, a dewdrop landed on a blade of grass.  When the first rays of the morning sun touched the dewdrop, it turned into a fragile baby pixie.  Everyone knows that baby pixies touched by human hands never grow wings; nevertheless I caught the fragile baby pixie and gave her to The Precious, Lefty, and Angel Doll to be their pixie sister.
In spite of her wingless teensy fragileness, Pixie makes every effort to rule the family and occasionally the universe with an iron kumquat-sized fist.
Grammie has dubbed her "the little activity director".   The Precious calls her "the little terrorist" (while he's poking her in the side with his finger).  Angel Doll used to come to me sobbing because Pixie had hurt her in the feelings.  It didn't seem to matter that Angel Doll was a year and a half older and three times Pixie's size. Even Hunneypunkin is often left bewildered in Pixie's aftermath.
Lefty, in contrast, simply forgets that Pixie exists due to the vast difference in their heights.  She's just too small to register on his radar.  We constantly have to remind him to watch where he's walking or he'll blaze a trail right over her.
Fortunately, Pixie has not yet figured out that the only being standing between her and ruling the galaxy is, in fact, me.  With each of her birthdays, and there's one coming soon, I fear she may discover this fact, and in my chronically fatigued state I might not have enough reserves against the power of her doubled-up kumquat-irons.  I'm not sure even Jeremy Renner could save me.  My only hope is that I can teach her to always use her powers for good, while she still believes I'm her superior.