the smell of my desperation has become a stench

Oh mon, mon, mon, mon, you are

Leta has recently figured out how to operate the DVD remote and because of this we are now forced to watch a certain Sesame Street DVD over and over again. Never mind that we have seven different episodes stored on the TiVo including the one featuring a skit where two Weimaraners are dressed up as old women and are making peanut butter from scratch with their human hands. She couldn’t care less about that episode, pity her bad taste. My one hope in life is that when we all die and go to heaven a Weimaraner dressed up as an old woman will greet us at the gates.

Also, since we’re on the topic of Weimaraners, here’s a reminder of why the Daily Oliver is the best website on the Internet.

The Sesame Street DVD is filled with all sorts of children’s songs like I’ve Been Working on the Railroad and She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain and that insufferable Jacob Jingleheimer song which I’m certain is being played right now at an unbearable volume in some prison to torture a terrorist suspect. Dude is probably wishing they had instead just cut off his arms and forced him to eat his own fingers.

Leta now knows all these songs and sings them line for line, a remarkable feat considering she had never heard any of them before this DVD. Last night as we were getting her ready for bed she broke into a violently off-key version of Row Row Row Your Boat, and I realized that she had learned it solely from watching television, that it required no input from me as a parent. People, this is an example of everything that is right with America.

Last night we also got out the video camera because she was singing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star with so much gusto it could have been the national anthem. She may not have all the words right, or any of them for that matter, and in this clip she doesn’t even start in the right place, but this video shows that the television is doing a pretty good job of raising my kid.

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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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