You see this picture? It's a memory I'll not soon forget. A sunny, beautiful autumn day full of playtime potential with my siblings and our seven cousins at Grandmother's house. Oh, and the picture? It was planned well in advance. My mom and her sisters had the great idea that it was time to update the photo album. We were instructed on what to where, how to stand, and when the sun would be in just the right position so that this would be the perfect portrait for posterity.Let's start with the "what to wear" part. Suffice it to say that the clothing chosen was not condusive to playing at Grandma's. Especially for the ones who liked to run and romp around the yard and in the woods. Have you ever tried running in Dalmation-spotted tights roughly two sizes too small? It's not fun nor cute, let me tell you. Playing tag while constantly stopping to do the ballerina squat is not a pretty sight. It was quite detrimental to my mental health as I was perpetually "it." How many times can you call "time out" to go to the restroom to fix your tights and continue to find favor with your adolescent cousins? Once or twice but after that you get left out of the game.
And the shoes? Black patent leather. Oh, yeah, try running in those over stumps! I got blisters the size of a quarter on each heel. My tights may have been too small but you can bet my shoes were too big. I have always had narrow feet and the slip-on kind look good in the box but they remain on my do-not-purchase list.
Then there was the loud sound of Grandmama's shrill voice calling us all to attention. It was time. After roughly seventeen hundred hours and fifty-six minutes, Mother and her two sisters had us lined up for our photo shoot. I tried. Lord knows, I tried. But, with everyone suddenly becoming a comedian we all got a helpless case of the giggles. What we thought was funny, our parents considered treason. Even when I couldn't look at the camera because of a lifelong case of photosensitivity, they continued to threaten to hang us till death from the closest moss-covered oak tree.
It was enough to make this six-year-old "Little Miss Perfect" want to cuss. Just take the durn picture! I wanted to holler. (Maybe not those exact words but you get it.) My tights needed a good yank and bandages on my heels would have been nice. But, no! The time to take the warm and fuzzy family photo had arrived and only the return of Jesus Christ would have stopped the torture.
I could go on and on, but I realize there is a time to let go. I think I just let go. Are you ready to let go? Just put it down, proof read your blog to avoid slander, and press enter. Tell me I'm not the only one with childhood trauma over something so trivial as a photo-op at Grandma's! Please!
