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.
We made the decision to go to Scotland together as a family to see her in March, she passed while we were there and then I wrote this and this.
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.)
I get them in position, and then they spot a farmer on his humongous tractor 16 miles away. OK, it was about half an acre behind our place, but still…
I birth a brain child and heave their bench from the porch onto the lawn. Too bad they’re too busy TALKING to pay attention to me. Their mother.
Almost a shot. Too bad they’re both looking the wrong way. What’s over there, you say? Nothing. A rogue twig, probably.
Ian tries to steal a kiss, holding on to Cameron with the double hand death grip.
An escapee chases a bloody butterfly. However, I am still oozing the patience of a saint.
I manage to get Ian back on the bench, doing some sort of Playgirl move. Too bad his shoes are on backwards…
Yes, he’s a freakin comedian. I’m laughing too. Can you hear me? CAN YOU HEAR ME??!!
I fake sneeze to get Cameron to laugh. It backfired when Ian started doing it too.
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 took this the night before. His first shot on a swing.
I get no respect. Check out his new growler face.
I get Ian in a prime spot and have him wait for Cameron. He was a no-show.
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.