An unfiltered fire hose of flaming condemnation

Nothing a baby wipe can’t take care of

My sister’s Beagle, Bo, who is staying with us for the next few days, he has walked underneath the kitchen table and is patiently standing by Leta’s dangling legs, hoping she drops a goldfish cracker.

Leta: “Mama, Bo is looking at me.”

Me: “He’s just looking for a treat. Don’t worry about Bo.”

Leta: “But he’s looking at me.”

Me: “Bo is allowed to look at you.”

Leta: “I DON’T WANT BO TO LOOK AT ME!”

Me: “Oh my god, you cannot be serious.”

Leta: “HE’S STILL LOOKING AT ME!”

Me: “Leta, you need–”

Leta: “BO IS LOOOOOOKING AT MEEEEEEEE!”

And right then, I swear I’m not even making this up, my whole brain, it popped right out of my skull, landed on the kitchen floor, and bounced like a tennis ball.

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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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