This morning Toddler D and I got up, got showered, got dressed and ran out the door so that D could have his picture taken. Poor D, being the baby, has had no formal photos taken . . . at all. When I saw that they were taking preschool photos during picture retake time at our local elementary today I thought, “Yes! Easy peasy! I know what package to get. We’ll just fly in there take the picture, fly out. Someone will call when they come in — no mess, no fuss, no sitting fee, no pressure to buy more than we need! I am a brilliant mother!”
Only D had a 3 hour nap from 2 to nearly 5 yesterday afternoon which meant he didn’t go to bed until 11:30 . . . and yet he got up at 6:15 a.m.
D didn’t want to cooperate with anyone on anything. He didn’t want to take a shower with his dad and get his hair washed. He didn’t want to put on his puppy dog sweater. He didn’t want to wear a coat. He didn’t want to get in the car.
I was concerned. No, I was resigned. Resigned to a meltdown in front of the photographer.
We made it to the school and found where they were taking pictures. He smiled beautifully and chatted up the photo assistant and I thought, “Yes! This is going to work as wonderfully as I planned after all! Brilliant!”
It was our turn at the little stool and we marched over there. He sat up straight, like Mother’s little soldier, look straight at the camera . . . and scowled. Scowled, scowled, scowled. The photographer and I sang and danced and made funny noises. I moved D off the stool, smiled a big cheesy smile and had her take my picture, so he could see what what he was supposed to do. (She found this hilarious, by the way. Me, not so much.) Finally the photographer put a duck on her head, D smirked and the shot was taken.
Then he made a beeline for the playground, and I had to drag him out of the building literally kicking and screaming.
We came home. I had TWO coffees and we haven’t done much else. It may be a while before D has more formal shots taken. Like kindergarten.