It’s amazing to me how much has transpired since Cameron turned one year old in January. I was physically exhausted after writing this letter to him. I’d found out the condition of my Gran had worsened and posted this – another drainer.
You’d never know I generally seep in sarcasm after reading those. Everybody takes you seriously when you have a lilting accent, though. Something about not hearing the different sarcastic inflection. Kiss my kilt. It’s draining the sarcastic life out of me.
So, I decided since Cameron was turning 18 months old today, I was going to capture some shots of him and Ian together. It turned out well. As well as a mother could hope. Now I know why they say never to work with children or animals. Or animal children. (Click on any of the images to enlarge.)
Granted, they’re still sitting together, but then Ian starts body slamming him because I kept telling him to move back beside Cameron. Cameron then curses at him in his own language. Ian looks on, obviously indifferent to the insults being fired at him.
I’ll leave it to the professionals next time, they get paid to be miserable. In the meantime, I have some SERIOUS blackmail fodder for when they’re both teenagers. This is me with baited breath.