Storytelling

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Celebrating “Photo Op Fails” With My Kid

August 4, 2013 at 10:09 pm , by 

2 years, 8 months.

Dear Jack,

By no means am I a professional photographer. In fact, my style of taking pictures could pretty much be summed up as “take a dozen shots, then hope up one or two turns out okay.”

For every savory and polished picture I post with these letters I write to you, there is at least eleven that don’t deserve a second look. I always present the best of the pictures I take of you.

But not today.

Today, I want to show you a glimpse of the kind of photos that don’t make the cut- because the only way I would use these in a story… is to write a story about pictures that don’t make the cut.

In particular, these are what I call “photo op fails.” They are failed photograph opportunities.

Clearly, in both of these shots that Mommy took for us at the Williamson County Fair today, you were not so eager to have your picture taken, whereas I was.

Granted, you had just woken up from a nap, then you were all of the sudden surrounded by half the surrounding area of Nashville as we checked out the local farm animals on display.

I love how in the top picture, you are reaching for Mommy; though looking in a different direction at a bull that you are probably a little bit freaked out by.

Then in the next shot… it’s just simply an awkward (!) photo.

In one arm I’m holding a fishing pole connected to a magnetic fish I just “caught” in the pool, while holding you with the other. It looks unnatural because I couldn’t turn around to face Mommy, since I was holding the fishing pole; though you weren’t facing Mommy anyway.

To be fair, though, I shouldn’t finish this letter to you today without showing a “photo op fail” with you and Mommy.

Yesterday, we met your best friend Sophie and her parents at the Nashville Fairgrounds Speedway to watch the races.

I wanted to catch a good shot of you and Mommy. Here’s what I got instead…

You had a toy Volkswagen beetle you clenched onto for the entire race. I happened to accidentally catch the moment when the bumper of that toy car got stuck in Mommy’s hair.

I immediately had to untangle it for her!

Maybe one day I’ll become a professional photographer. Actually, I’d even settle for the title of “amateur.”

Until then, there are sure to be plenty more photo op fails!

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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My Kid Turns Playtime Into Manual Labor

August 4, 2013 at 12:19 am , by 

2 years, 8 month.

Dear Jack,

At one point last week on our family vacation in California, I ended up becoming the official “adult in charge of all the kids” for about an hour.

It just so happened that you and your cousins discovered the random packs of balloons sitting on a shelf in the garage… along with the water hose behind the house.

Who was I to deny your rights to create and destroy water balloons?

My motto is that “it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is for permission.”

I wasn’t sure if Grandma, or any of the other parents of your cousins, would have a problem with it, but I took my chances.

Turns out, Grandma (Mommy’s Mommy) later told me that’s why those balloons were there- to make water balloons.

Look at this picture of you holding one. It’s hilarious, ridiculous, and pretty awesome, actually.

You look like an Austrian weight lifter.

I started out by making you legitimate sized water balloons, but I could tell you wanted more of a challenge.

So I started filling them up so full of water that you could barely carry them, because you were so inspired to keep them from dropping and bursting, that it become like a competition to you.

Or at least good ole fashioned manual labor.

And it wasn’t just the water balloons.

You took great pride each day in washing your Thomas the Train tricycle.

I mean… your monster truck.

If I had to calculate the percentage of time you spent actually riding it versus how much time you spent giving it a wash, I would say 30% riding versus 70% washing.

So that means the majority of the time you were “playing” with your tricycle, you were technically working instead.

When it comes to playtime, you don’t play around.

Literally.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

 

 

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My Kid Doesn’t Easily Sleep In The Same Room As Me

August 2, 2013 at 11:06 pm , by 

2 years, 8 months.

Dear Jack,

As part of our 5th wedding anniversary, Mommy and I celebrated by flying over Sacramento for our very first hot air balloon ride. Just so you know, these pictures you see of your parents were not easily obtained…

The first morning we were scheduled to launch, it was too windy to fly. Then for our second attempt a few days later, not enough riders showed up to keep the balloon’s weight heavy enough for the flight.

Fortunately, the third time was a charm.

However, that meant that for three mornings of our ten day vacation, Mommy and I had to sneak out of the bedroom we were sharing with you, while staying at Grandma’s house.

It was a concentrated effort to keep you from waking up in the process.

We both had to set our alarms for 4:00 AM to make it in time for the launch, but had to remember to set our phones on vibrate; placing them close enough to hear them, but not too close to you.

Then, we had to crawl on the floor, using our cell phones as flashlights, hoping not to bump the bed as we groped and hoped for the door knob, holding our breaths it wouldn’t squeak as we escaped.

That’s not even mentioning the fact we had to sneak in the bedroom the same way every single night, crawling on the floor with cell phones, just to go to bed.

This wouldn’t have been so challenging, perhaps, if you weren’t the kind of kid who doesn’t sleep well in the same room as your parents.

You’re the opposite of me, in those regards.

When I was a kid, I always looked for an excuse to sleep in the same room as my parents; being so desperate I didn’t mind sleeping on the floor.

As for you, it’s nearly impossible for you to fall asleep if you know Mommy and Daddy are in the same room.

You’ve been conditioned to fall asleep only if you’re in a room by yourself.

I suppose that’s a side effect of the “cry it out” method; not that I regret that decision the least bit.

It was best for you. We offered to let you sleep with us when you were an infant and you seemed annoyed by it.

You’re a solitary sleeper.

But hey, when we’re on a family vacation staying for free with family, we find a way to make it work.

I just had to ask myself, “What would Clark Griswold do?”

Mixed with a little bit of Ethan Hunt from theMission Impossiblemovies.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

P.S. To see the rest of the pictures from our hot air balloon ride, go to theDadabase Facebook page and click on the photo album, Hot Air Balloon Ride: 5th Wedding Anniversary.

 

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Way Too Excited To Go Back To School, From Vacation

August 1, 2013 at 10:26 pm , by 

2 years, 8 months.

Dear Jack,

Halfway through our vacation last week, you asked me, “I go back to school tomorrow?”

I could tell, you weren’t asking me if you had to go to school the next day- you were asking if you could go to school the next day.

What’s not to love about spending 10 days in northern California with all your cousins, getting to play all day and have your parents turn a blind eye to you drinking juice?

(Sure enough, your eczema reappeared by the 2nd day, which is why we typically don’t let you drink juice.)

I say it all comes down to routine. You’re like me- you thrive in the routine.

Being on vacation is so… open-ended, and even… intimidating to the psyche. The part about not knowing what to expect the day is hard for you (and me) to process.

So I totally get why half-way through our vacation, you asked about going home.

Of course, you totally had a blast the rest of the week, and I still have a story or two to tell about that soon!

But I will say, now that we’re back in Tennessee, you completely appreciate the comfort of the familiar routine.

You were way too excited to hop in the Honda Element for the ride to school yesterday, which was your first time back to school in close to two weeks.

Very joyfully, you kicked your legs along with the bathroom echo rock music of The Shins as we hardly spoke any words on the 45 minute drive to school. You were just so excited to know you were about to enter back into your life of structure. I love it when you are that content and at peace with me, giddy and smiling the whole time.

Even though you showed some unusual hesitation when I dropped you off, I knew you wouldn’t have much trouble readjusting.

I was right.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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Just One Of The Kids… In Training

July 25, 2013 at 12:24 pm , by 

2 years, 8 months.

Dear Jack,

This week while on vacation, I’ve been observing your social behavior.

So as I brought up a few days ago, I suspect that, like me, you’re a highly social, highly verbal introvertwho needs a designated time and place to just zone out and meditate without someone or something interrupting your thoughts.

You’re a deep thinker, like me. You like to analyze how the world works and teach yourself as much as you can about life.

And as I have been watching you this week, you have been watching your older cousins.

I’ve caught you several times smiling whenever they laugh about something; like here in this picture.

You have no idea what they are talking about, and even though they don’t even see your reaction, you still are reacting.

Whereas you’re nearly 3, the youngest of your cousins on this side of the family is 10 years old. So there’s a major age gap there. It’s interesting to see the dynamics.

I’ll say this- I don’t know that I’ve heard anyone refer to you as “Baby Jack,” as was this case with previous family visits. That means your cousins are seeing you as a little kid now.

Sure, you’re a pet version of Animal from the Muppets, or a baby caveman, to them. But I can see that your cousins are naturally drawn to want to socialize you; as you want them to socialize you.

So I like catching glimpses of you smiling when they laugh, as if you were part of the conversation… because at least in your mind, you are.

 

Love,

Daddy