I never take pictures of my own kids anymore. Seriously, never. It takes an act of god, coupled with some intense bribery, to even get them to look in the general direction of the camera without sticking out their tongues, rolling their eyes, or plastering on their goofiest grins. When the camera is in hand, “give your brother a hug” is heard as “body slam your brother and knock him to the ground” and “come over here and stand still” seemingly translates to “Run! Run very fast in the opposite direction”, and the unlimited patience that I have when I’m working with other people’s kids is gone in, oh, about ten seconds (give or take five).
So, when I got the bright idea to take the kids down to the Wooster Square and try to get some shots of them while the cherry blossoms were in bloom, I didn’t really have high hopes. What little hope I had left was completely crushed as we pulled up to the park and there was one single, solitary cherry blossom tree still in bloom. Also, in the five minutes it took to find a parking space I must have heard the word “boring” at least fifty times from the back seat. Apparently I forgot to clarify that the park we were going wasn’t THAT kind of park.
I swear, all of these shots were taken on the sidewalk about six inches from where we parked the car. Once we were in the actual park and there was room to run I knew it would be all over, so I grabbed what little opportunity I had and made the best of it. I won’t lie -there were a lot of outtakes (an embarrassing amount, really), many promises of italian ice, and maybe a lot of a little yelling. But, look! I finally got a few decent pictures of my kids!
by kelli
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