This week we are sharing a family picture that tells a story. I proposed this topic a long time ago and frankly, I don’t remember if this is the picture that I had in mind.
It has been an extraordinarily busy week, so I pulled out a copy of the picture below. (I apologize for the photo’s quality; a well-carried wallet-size was the only one I could come up with quickly.)
Yes, that is me…31 ½ years ago.
My sons have changed quite a bit, and yes, I certainly have, but my husband, not so much. He changed back right away from contacts to his glasses after this photo session and his hair is thinner on top, but he still looks much the same. He even looks much the same as his pictures from when he was a kid.
In fact, I probably should have used one or another of his family’s pictures, one of his mother waiting on the dock for his father to arrive in port, along with any number of their 15 children. (Those pictures are a hoot, especially because of some of my mother-in-law’s hats!)
But I pulled out this one for of a couple of reasons.
One is that my sons look so much like their grandfathers. The older boy looks like my father-in-law, while the younger one is obviously my father’s grandson.
I will, however, call attention to the boys’ hands as the main reason I chose this photo.
We got the baby to hold still for the first shot, but having seen many cameras, he was interested in getting his hands on the big one the man had once he realized what it was. You can see that I have his right hand, which was his natural choice to use. Then, just before the second picture was taken, he reached with his left hand and his brother caught it to hold it still.
Now, I hate to brag about the brain-power of my kids, but I will. The baby knew to hold still for one shot and then wanted to get his hands on the camera, which was so unlike the ones he had seen before. His ‘big’ brother knew not only to hold still for the photo, but took responsibility to stop his brother from moving for the next shot, all the time maintaining his own pose.
The youngest was nine months old; his brother had just turned two earlier that month.
I think the picture speaks volumes. My mother gave me no sympathy when the two little smarty-pants ragged me out: “How sad would it be if they were poor little things that sat in a corner all day?”
Know any kids that sit in a corner all day? I don’t think they exist.
Anyway, this particular picture, (more than the large fist shot that hangs in my living room), never ceases to amaze me.
Go ahead, have a few hoots over me, but check out the boys’ hands…then smile with me!