Which I think was his way of saying that the day I don't have a lot to talk about it that day he doesn't recognize me.
Everyone provided unhelpful suggestions.
I was sitting on the couch with Braeden's head on my lap and I was fiddling with his curls. (His hair could provide hours of entertainment.) I pulled one tiny curl down on his forehead and had Adam--whose phone was nearby--take a picture. Emma was lying on the floor and started taking selfies with her phone so Adam did the same. Mark was doodling on the dry erase board Emma had used in teaching her lesson. He wanted me to take a picture of him.
Someone said, "Maybe you could post all these pictures on your blog."
It seemed like as good of an idea as anything else.
Here's the little boy with the little curl right in the middle of his forehead:
This is who we can blame for the children who take bizarre pictures of themselves:
Here are some shots Emma took:
Not to be outdone, Braeden texted me these, he calls them his magnum opus:
He texted his director during Christmas break to ask if he could get his haircut. (With the musical coming up they need approval for those sorts of things.) His director texted him back the picture with the mullet wig. Braeden and his friends like to commandeer her phone and fill it with goofy pictures. I guess that is a job hazard when you associate with these types...
Here is Mark's contribution. He has to be old school with his expression because his unenlightened parents can't get on board with him needing a phone as well.
|Is the stick figure dreaming of a cell phone?|
In the selfie I took, I looked like a drug addict. Braeden said I could call it #methmama.
Instead, here's a picture I found on my phone that I took to send to Geri. It was the day I bought a new vest with the gift certificate she gave me for Coldwater Creek.
I'm saving the picture because 1) my eyes are open and that doesn't happen too often in pictures and 2) I don't look like #methmama.