When Random was born we looked at our brand new baby boy with his giant blue hands, gorilla shaped head and male-pattern baldness and had the following conversation: "Holy smokes." "Well, hopefully he'll have a great personality."
Not even a day had gone by, while we were still in shock at the wonder of new parenthood, when we received our first order form for professional pictures. It even had a note addressed to Mommy and Daddy from our brand new baby. "I know you want to share your joy with grandma and grandpa, aunts and uncles, doctors and postmen. Please buy some pictures so that I know you love me. If you really really love me I know you'll buy the photo sweatshirt and keyring as well. -Your Baby"
So we bought the photos. They put our child on top of a frightening background, laid an even more frightening vest atop him and snapped pictures while he laid there stunned and bruised.
Here we are, 10 years and 2 kids later. Luckily, they have cutened up a bit since day 2. And, not so luckily, we still get the forms home with the same plea--you love your child and surely want to capture this moment forever. We still get the same frightening background--although now we can choose between a variety of unflattering colors. We still get the same weird scrunched up face--Scout said, "Don't worry Mommy. I smiled my biggest. Like a pirate."
And yet, I still buy them because-- Yes. I love my crazy pirate faced kids and I
do want to capture every moment forever. Even the moments with the abnormal head tilt, magenta background and creepy hair slicked down by the overeager PTA volunteers.
Another one of those things to put in the category with double sided wrapping paper, heelies (you know, those wheeled shoes that cost a bajillion bucks that you bought for your kid after all the begging but that he grew out of before he got over his irrational fear of wheeled shoes--feel free to substitute skateboard, blendypens, MioPup, Moon Sand or any other thing that cost a fortune, was imperative that they have and was discarded five minutes later) and ballet classes. In twenty years it probably won't matter but for now you just do the best you can.
The activist inside of me wants to lobby against picture day as an unfair practice of preying on the guilt of parents. The capitalist inside of me wants to figure out how I can hop on this gravy train...if you love your child you would certainly take advantage of this once in a lifetime business opportunity.
