I'm not a big fan of school pictures...or any sort of organized picture taking for that matter. Hell, I'm not even a little, teeny fan of them. I prefer candid shots. I have roughly a billion of them, so if I need a good one, it's just a quick digital flip away. The Wife however just has to have them. One or two a year. Now that The Boy is in kindergarten, we can at least forgo the whole scheduling routine. So here's how my first class picture went:
The night before, The Wife announces that The boy will participate in a bath and hair washing activity. He didn't seem to mind much. Boffo. So after dinner, she was on the phone and the boy wanted to play soccer in the house. (Hey, it was a soft, little ball, don't look at me like that. We hardly ever break anything.) I said, "Okay."
We play for a bit and I pretty much just stand there and block an occasional shot. One time (oddly enough, the last time for the night) I blocked a shot by trapping the ball. He kept running and launched a kick at it.
I was wearing shoes; he was not.
"Dude, are you okay?"
He calmed down after a few minutes and we found that he had bent his nail back a bit on his toe. Ouchy, yes, but he was working on a oscar.
One band aid and one popsicle later, all seemed to be well. Then The Wife said, "Let's go take a bath so you can look good for your picture tomorrow."
"Waaa, my toe hurts too much to take a bath."
Of course, I got 'the look' at that point. Wha? Me? He's the one not taking a bath and he kicked me. I was utterly not at fault here.
I went to do dishes. When in doubt, I find that some light housework takes the heat off.
The Wife came in after a few minutes and smacked me (playfully...mostly) in the shoulder and said, "You just had to sabotage me."
"Me? I'm an innocent here. It was The Boy."
and back to dishes for me...
The morrow comes...
The Wife has one day a week that she works an evening so I come in an hour early and we split the day. I'm at my desk and the phone rings. Hmmm...I see it's the cell phone.
*whud* *whud* *whud* (that's the sound the back of the car seat makes when it's being kicked...also insert assorted screams and wails.)
"The Boy will not get out of the car to go to school."
"Be right there."
Aside: I'm lucky here. Work is roughly two minutes from work. It would be one minute, but there's this pesky 'school zone.' in the way.
Tangent: School is also five minutes from my house. That's right, I can drive to school, boot The Boy out of the car, and make it to work in under seven minutes. My life rocks.
Anyway, I get there and she had coaxed the wiener out of the car. I grabbed his school bag and we trooped to the doors. He was still all blubbery, but I'm immune to that stuff. He's a first class actor. We got inside and the reason for the outburst was, "I don't wanna get my picture taken."
So I said, "You don't have to get it taken if you don't want to." Hah! Score one against the tyranny of posed pictures!
The Wife chimed in, "That's right, you don't have to."
Game, set, and match baby.
His teacher came down and we got him into the classroom and that was that.
Later, another call from the cell.
"Hi daddy! I got my picture taken today!"
I sure seemed to be my cell, but who was this child on the other end? I asked, "Did you have fun?"
"Yup, I was the first in line."
What I wanted to say: "Well what the hell was all that crap this morning?!"
What I said, "Well, that's awesome buddy. I'm proud of you."
This is why I hate organized pictures. They induce psychoses in women and children. I know it's some sort of plot by the Joint Photographic Experts Group. I will find a way to stop it. It's my mission.
Speaking of pictures:
That's right, that's me in my awesome, new, customized t-shirt from Jen at Steenky Bee. I was hand (well, mouth actually) picked by the only and only Henners. Seriously though, it's kinda the nicest one that I have. You know...since guys don't buy new ones until the old ones are pretty much unrecognizable as clothing.
Only a few days until Halloween if you're interested in my Halloween story : Click the linky.