I’m saying a prayer for those college students taking pictures of other people’s kids for six hours a day in that place at the mall. Those poor photographers. How many of them have decided never to procreate? I’m guessing the percentage is high.
I set out to take one picture of my kids today.
One picture to send to grandparents, you know? The kind of picture a grandmother could put in a frame beside her Precious Moments or show off to her friends in Sunday school. “Ahhhh,” they’d say, “how sweeeeeeet.” And then she’d nearly levitate with pride.
That kind of picture.
The kind of picture I, apparently, cannot take of my children.
The kind of children who, apparently, are not Ahhhh-how-sweet material today.
Because there was much farting.
And much karate.
And so I thought maybe a change of scenery would help them find that happy picture-taking medium between insane and plastic.
No such luck.
We might be heading to the mall.