Picture day

Yesterday it was picture day at school for Henry. We all remember this day, right? Put on a nice shirt, brush your hair and be forever memorialized with whatever bad haircut was in style at the time (ahem, Dorothy Hamill and “Mom-cut” for me, among others).

As you may recall, Henry’s splinter drama took center stage on Tuesday night, so no bath was had and his simpering didn’t allow time to pick out a picture day outfit. Fast forward to Wednesday morning.

Same old fight about not wanting to wear any of the choices we had selected for him. But he eventually settled on a red and grey argyle sweater and orange and blue wind pants. You know, like warm-up pants. Great outfit, no? Not that any of you will ever see it. Because Henry flat out refused to sit for a picture.

Apparently, the school tried bribery and coaxing and getting his favorite teacher involved, talking to him one on one, the works. No dice. No photos.

What to make of this willfulness? Or is it spitefulness? As if he knows that his family would like to have photos of him? He has begun to shun the camera more and more. This morning, as he cutely cuddled on the floor with his baby brother, I grabbed my iPhone to take a snapshot and was told no no no Mama! No photo! You would think he’d like the attention, wouldn’t you? I just don’t know what to make of it. Is it part of a bigger issue of parental disobedience (trust me, there are other signs) or some quirky phase he’s going through?


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