Women take good photos of their kids

Devil in the machine

If I want to be a real woman, I'd better learn to take a better kid pic. Sure, I snap a keeper on occasion. Even a broken clock is right twice a day. But two out of ten is not an acceptable success rate when it comes to capturing priceless, treasured, fleeting, unrepeatable and irreplaceable moments in the lives of my offspring. Two out of ten is surely the devil's work in action.

Case in point:



I took that photo of Joe Joe the other day. I'd finally broke down and purchased a pencil stroller after Joe grabbed three different color groups off of the DMC rack at our local sewing store in one fell swoop and made a run for the border. He put Elmo in the stroller and proceeded to be cute. I wanted to capture his cuteness for all eternity. What I grabbed was a plastic stroller handle insulting my son's face with its very existence.

I even do it to the baby:



Lily's not getting any younger. She's growing up and away from me, farther and faster with each passing day. I'm afraid to blink lest I should open my eyes and find her driving off to college, casually blowing her exhaust onto my teary face. Like the girl the gold watch and everything, it's up to me to stop time. It's up to me to grab the moment. Carpe momentito. Instead I grabbed half a head.

I had better get a grip on the devil's hold over my camera and quick.