An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

I know because I have cousins from Dallas

“Why is she screaming?”

“WHY? Because I told her we needed to put her pants on.”

“Why would you do that?”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Because she needs to wear pants! It’s 15 degrees outside! THERE MUST BE PANTS ON THE BODY.”

“But I don’t even wear pants after four o’clock. It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

“I cannot believe you are taking her side on this.”

“She doesn’t want to wear pants. It’s not hurting her. It’s not like you found her wielding a machete. When you do, I’ll take your side on that one.”

“What if someone comes over?”

“If someone comes over they’ll see that my daughter doesn’t have pants on. And then life will go on.”

“What if the President stopped by? WHAT THEN?”

“Jon. The President is from Texas. He would be impressed that she wasn’t naked and taking a shit on the living room floor.”

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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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