Are there any other parents out there that suddenly aren’t allowed to take photos of their kids?
We watch them grow, we mark the milestones, we make literal marks on a wall as they get taller, and suddenly the “photo album” has a lot of blank pages in it.
Wait, when did my child grow a mustache? Oh it must have been between the ages of 14 and 15 where there is no photographic proof!
Right now I’m sitting on the train with Jack headed to NYC. This is the first time I’ve ridden with him this year. This year! I used to take him every other week. Moca and I would ride happily along and then either turn right around and come home, or take a walk around the city.
This year, however, Jack has insisted on riding the train alone. It saves me 5 hours of travel time for which I’m usually grateful, but I miss the rides with him. I miss taking Moca along and having her get so much attention for being such a good girl.
So, right now, Jack is sitting across from me, passed out asleep, mouth open catching flies, as they say, and boy would I like some photographic proof to show you all.
Ugh. I won’t share a photo .
But…Boy do I want to.
me: Jack, here’s a few seats here. Look it has a lot of leg room.
Jack: No, lets go find an open 3-seater.
me: I hate sitting in those. Let’s go in this 6-seater.
Jack: Ugh then we’ll get jammed in when people sit next to us.
me: No one is going to get on after Stamford, we’re fine. Look how much room we have.
A few stops later…