A few weeks ago, Milo had his very first school picture taken. The morning of, I pressed his uniform ( a rare occurrence indeed, I assure you ), washed his face extra well, and we practiced smiles at the bus stop.
This was his first attempt.
Well, that’s cute, I said, but it might look a little bit . . .
awkward, strained, very slightly painful staged.
Staged? he asked.
Yes. You know, I coached, I once read that people who have their picture taken for a living have a trick to get the perfect smile every time. When the photographer asks them to smile and say cheese, they say ‘Hey!’ instead.
Hey? he asked.
Hey, I assured.
So we practiced a few Hey Smiles and thankfully the bus arrived. Because really, coaching your 4 year old child on how to smile is, at best, an excercise in futility and, at worst, incredibly vain.
And I know that. Really, I do.
Anyhow, when I picked him up that afternoon, I asked him how it went and he said well. That he liked the photographer and that he got to sit and stand and even pose like Spiderman.
Awesome, I said, I can’t wait to see them.
Fast forward to this afternoon when his teacher sent the proofs home.
Just about what I’d invisaged.
And really, I love them. In all of their awkward, strained, very slightly painful glory.