Or in my case one thousand pictures
speaks just one word: No!
Swiftly followed by, “Don’t want to”
and possibly – very definitely maybe – “Would she ever just fek off with
herself.”
Trying to capture a moment on camera
with four kids is not easy. I dread it
every time. Fortunately for us, we are
rarely in a situation formal enough to warrant such a traumatic event.
We generally have a much better
success rate when we employ a stealth tactic; creeping up on them when they are
not paying attention, press the shutter button (is there a shutter button on a
phone camera? Probably not) and shoot
for your life.
They’re not even aware you are
capturing their spirit thus endangering their lives (that’s what they make you
feel like sometimes) and chances are there will be one picture in there,
somewhere, with three out of four of them looking in the one direction.
Maybe.
I didn’t say anything about looking at the camera, however. Just, you know, in one direction. A random one. Any one will do.
We consider ourselves having done very
well if one of them is not scowling or covering his face with his hands. It’s only wonderful if none of them are
doing the bunny ears stunt.
So why put ourselves through this
torture? Why indeed. I needed to take some photos of them to
accompany an article I am writing. In
fairness, we were offered a photographer.
Someone who would come out to the house to take care of the gory
details. (In hindsight that sounds
great.)
But I’m allergic to professional
people visiting my house and even more allergic to the clean-up that would have
to be done beforehand.
(But we’d have a lovely photograph of
the boys. We don’t have many.)
Too late. I politely turned down the offer.
Instead I issued promises. I told the boys that if they co-operated and
smiled their heads off at the correct times, resisted the bunny ears temptation
they would be duly rewarded with a hot chocolate.
The fact they get one most evenings wasn’t
mentioned.
I swore blind this most dastardly of photo
events would only take ten minutes, fifteen tops and with one of their parents
taking the pictures, it would mean they wouldn’t even have to change their
clothes.
Threats came next. They
were told that if they didn’t comply there would be no hot chocolates (hah!)
and a photographer would come out to the house the next day and it would take all afternoon.
They would be smiling for hours on end. They’d have to shower. Change their clothes. I might even insist they get a haircut.
The screams of terror.
It was still a disaster.
And they got their hot
chocolates. Looking through the photos
later that evening there were one or two with bunny ears.
Me.
It was the only way I could release
some of the tension and frustration I was feeling. How hard is it to smile anyway?
If I could post out-takes/bloopers I
would. Or maybe not. Here instead are a few quotes.
“Do you have to look so bored?”
“I’ll give you fifty euro’s if you
smile.”
“Let’s all pretend we’re a happy
family. Just for this photo. Ah, go on, please!”
“You can’t use those photos. They look so forced.” (They kind of did!)
“Do I have a double chin if I look
this way?” (May or may not have been
me.)
“Yes, Mammy. You kind of do. In fact, it makes you look a
bit like a frog.” (Thanks!)
“Are we nearly finished yet.”
“I don’t want to smile. I’m sick of smiling. I hate smiling. You can’t make me anymore.”
None of them were really suitable so
it looks like I’ll have to go back to the drawing board. right now, photo shopping sounds great!
