Since graduation is, you know, next week, we got Emma's senior pictures taken last night. We had wanted Robert's sister Deborah to take them (she took our family pictures a few summers ago) but every time Deborah was in town, Emma had some big event like Drama State or a choir competition or work.
At Women's Conference, Marianne told me she wanted a graduation announcement of Emma's. She wanted to put it on her fridge.
I explained that we didn't have pictures.
Marianne said, "I want an announcement."
And since Marianne is the boss of me apparently (no, not apparently...she is) I got a guy in our ward to take the pictures.
Emma said she was talking to one of her friends about senior pictures and they said everyone they knew had their senior pictures taken by someone in their ward.
It's a thing here in Pleasant Grove, Utah.
So we jumped on that wagon.
Jared is a college kid and he's super personable and I liked the pictures I saw on his website.
He asked us where we wanted to have the pictures taken. I had zero suggestions.
Emma took her drama sweater for an outfit change because outfit changes seemed like the thing to do.
We followed Jared to a park in Cedar Hills. He took a bunch of pictures of Emma, some with the sweater. He asked if she had other outfits to change into. He asked me if there was a certain pose or picture I wanted. He looked at me expectantly.
I felt like I should have some opinions.
I said, "I guess when someone is getting their senior pictures a week before graduation, we're not that concerned about them."
Jared's little brother Brandon, who is Mark's age, was along to be an assistant. He gets ice cream for helping. He and I chatted about 8th grade while Emma smiled for the camera. His two favorite teachers are Mark's two favorite teachers and he said he loves seeing Mark in the hall because "he always gives me a high five."
A woman came along and frantically asked if we'd seen a little blonde boy.
I told Brandon that one time we'd left Mark behind accidentally. He said, "I think most parents do that at some time or another. My mom left me at church once."
I said, "Yeah, but your mom has eight children. I only have three. I don't really have an excuse for leaving one behind."
"You've got a point," he said.
Someone has to make the other mothers look better. It might as well be me.