The Brookston Family Blog
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Back at the mall, the new batch of photos turned out only marginally better than the first. There was nothing we thought was good enough to use for our holiday cards. One of the shots I liked a little bit so we got one print of it. While we were waiting for it to be printed, Alice and Porter practiced their driving skills.

Pulling out into traffic.

Wiating for the light to change.

“Hey, back seat driver. Get your own car!”

“I’m the winner!“

We had another hour to wait for the next batch of pictures to be done, so we took the kids to the park. For some reason, all the pictures I took were of Alice.

Swinging with mom.

Midway through her first successful stair descent of more than two steps.

Digging in the dirt.

So we went back to look at the photos and they were, predictably, pretty bad. One was okay but still not what we were hoping to use for our holiday cards. But – and this is a big, ugly but – the kids were in a good mood again. I was thinking it was the food and getting a chance to play. So Sarah and I uttered the now infamous words, “let’s take some more pictures. The kids are already dressed, they’re in a better mood. What could go wrong?”

Well, we’d forgotten about the curse on the ground that the studio was built on, because as soon as we set foot back in that spot, satan once again inhabited our normally angelic children. Our photographer was better this time, but he still couldn’t overcome the demonic possession. It was basically the same as hitting yourself in the head with a hammer … twice. After the swelling from the first hammer blow has subsided you think, “well that wasn’t so bad, let’s try that again. I think I can get it right this time!”

Porter playing around with the pumpkin prop, filling us with false confidence.

Happy boy.

After our photo ordeal, we had an hour to kill before we could see the horrific results. We took the kids for pizza, did some train and plane shopping, and generally poked around the mall. Porter and Alice discovered the vibrating transport museum and wanted to go for a drve.

Porter, in the Piet Mondrian-insprired boat.

Alice joins him for a boat ride, clearly unhappy he won’t let her take the wheel.

Much happier driving herself, using both wheels.

“See, I can drive myself.”

P.S. - did I mention the kids reverted to their happy, smiling selves almost the moment we emerged from taking pictures? Perhaps the portrait studio is built over an old indian burial site.

In what proved to be a grand mistake, we took the kids to have a family portrait taken, with the hopes of using the photo for our Christmas cards his year. The kids seemed like they were in a good mood once we arrived at the mall and at the photo place itself, they still seemed in high spirits. But the moment we stepped into the room to pose for the pictures, it was as if satan himself had possessed them. It was perhaps the most uncooperative they’ve been together collectively, perhaps ever. Maybe I’m exaggerating slightly, but not by much. Porter started out as a trooper but was ready to go after a few minutes. Alice, on the other hand, was completely distracted from the get go and could not be corralled. She would not sit still, would not allow herself to be held, would not look at the camera, smiling was, of course, off the table, and no amount of soothing would calm her down. It was a most exasperating half hour which yielded no results whatsoever. Damn.

But I can’t blame it all on the kids, our photographer didn’t help matters. These people are supposed to be the experts in taking children’s pictures, but she couldn’t even remember Alice’s name. She kept calling her Amy. And as soon as we’d get the kids into something resembling a pose and perhaps even coax a smile out of them, she’d fiddle with the camera another ten seconds or so by which time, of course, the perfect shot was lost! What the hell was she doing with the camera? It was driving us nuts. Ten seconds, in toddler time, is about a week and a half. You can’t expect anyone to stand still that long. Get the camera ready, set the pose, then take the damn picture. Sheesh. Is that so hard?

Porter showing his new tendency to put his hands in his pocket.

At the front of the portrait studio, playing with the props.

It was finally my turn to sleep in this morning, at least until 8:30 anyway. I thought this photo that Sarah took last week was appropriate insofar as I could imagine Porter shushing everyone to be quiet while I slept. Hey, I can dream, can’t I?

“Shhh. Daddy’s sleeping.”