the smell of my desperation has become a stench


“Let me talk to Sienna.”

“But I haven’t finished telling you that redneck joke.”

“No, you finished, I just didn’t think it was funny.”

“But the guy thought he said goats! Goats, Heather. Goats are funny.”

“Ranger, just let me talk to my niece already.”

“Fine, hold on.”


“Sienna! It’s me, Aunt Heather.”

“I know.”

“How did you know?”

“Because you just said so.”

“Ok silly. Guess what? I’m gonna get married!”

“I can’t get married! I’m not grown up yet.”

“No, I’m getting married. I’m not asking you to get married.”

“But I’m just a little girl. I can’t get married.”

“Sienna, I’m marrying Jon.”

“Jon’s plane flew over the car and left him. My friend Lexy lives up over there past the blue truck and I have to walk through the grass and my feet get wet.”

“I’m sorry that your feet get wet.”

“It’s okay. Rachel started eating her french fries before I finished the prayer.”

“I bet your dad got mad, huh?”

“No. Pepper’s got fleas and we have to wash her really good.”

“Wait, your dad didn’t get mad when she ate the french fries?”

“Pepper didn’t eat the french fries! Hahaha! Dogs don’t eat people food, Aunt Heather.”

“I was talking about Rachel.”

“Rachel’s not a dog. She’s my little sister.”

“Sienna, you’re funny.”

“I know.”

“Ok, I’ve got to call Grandpa Mike. Don’t forget the word I taught you.”


Heather B. Armstrong

Hi. I’m Heather B. Armstrong, and this used to be called mommy blogging. But then they started calling it Influencer Marketing: hashtag ad, hashtag sponsored, hashtag you know you want me to slap your product on my kid and exploit her for millions and millions of dollars. That’s how this shit works. Now? Well… sit back, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

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