the pieces of my life

This morning, like good suburbanites, the Doodlebug and I took a trip to the mall so we could go to Sears to get his first portrait taken. I always thought those posed pictures were lame, but then I got a bug up my butt that we needed a formal picture of the Doodlebug. A nice black and white to put up in the living room. Well, once again, I think it’s lame. Okay, no I don’t. It’s just sour grapes because everyone else gets cute pictures of their babies in ridiculous poses, but not me. It was like the photo at Beth Israel on his second day of life all over again. My baby wants to be an original. No copies, please. Because our smiley, cheery, happy, morning baby (I scheduled the appointment at 9:30 a.m. to capitalize on his happy time) immediately began screaming the minute we had him propped up for his photo. No matter what I did, he’d be frowny. I even told the photographer if she could catch the elusive pouty face, I’d buy it up. But even she couldn’t get that lower lip on film. Finally, the very patient photographer said to me, “I don’t think this is going to happen today.” Sigh. Of course, the moment we left, he plastered a great big grin on his face. And he looked so cute, I just had to buy him a new toy. That kid totally knows how to play me.

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