Early evening, on the Hen’s birthday, we took one of our infamously fun family walks. I needed to take a picture of a mural near a playground, so we walked through an adjacent neighborhood, across a pedestrian bridge to the school where said mural and playground reside.
I took the tripod along in case conditions would allow for the taking of a family picture. One in which everyone is wearing clothes, instead of pajamas, and possibly at least looking in the same direction.
What can I say, I have low expectations.
And so, after letting the boys climb around for a while, I set up the tripod in the pea-gravel and summoned them to a bench. I found the self-timer button on my camera and waited for magic to unfold; running from camera to bench between takes, while the men-folk sat on the bench with increasingly annoyed expressions on heir faces.
I don’t understand it, really, what’s so bordering-on-painful about sitting on a bench for precisely 5 minutes to take a picture? Realistically, when five people are involved, in various states of fatigue and irritation, it’s going to take more than one click of the button to get a photograph where everyone has their eyes open and a semblance of a smile on their face.
Why am I the only one who understands this? The boys – including the professor – don’t understand it. They’re willing to sit for two, maybe three pictures and then they’re done. They don’t care if only a majority of family members had eyes open, (or un-angry looks on their faces), they don’t want to take any more pictures. Which is when I have to make idle threats through clenched teeth before donning a semi-sweet motherly smile as the shutter closes.
And that’s how we end up with a set of gems, like these.