Picture this: My husband and I had trust issues this week.
Did I doubt he would provide for our family? Pull us out of a burning building, if need be? Step between me and a hungry saber-tooth tiger?
Nah, he’d have that covered. This, though, was big.
Months ago, I accepted a rare work gig that was going to take me out of town for five days.
I figured Husband and our girls could, would do fine. That is, until I looked at the calendar again and realized, gulp, this work trip meant I was going to miss the first day of school.
Keep in mind, our girls are big, starting 10th and 11th grades. They are capable of getting themselves ready.
But first day of school means that ever important first-day-of-school photo.
One might accuse me of being a bit overinvested in this. As if, without that photo, the rest of the school year won’t count.
Trust me, only I know how to capture that moment in time, please grandparents, share on social media.
Dear Reader, how do you turn over to your spouse the very important thing you are usually responsible for?
It’s not like this crew hadn’t given me reason to worry.
The girls are not exactly willing participants, squirming fake smiles, complaining when I insist on single shots, two-shots, full body shots. “The more shots give me more choices to get the best picture,” I explain.
Then there’s Husband, who has a tendency to run, what’s the word, oh yes, late.
The night before, I spent most of our phone call coaching Husband with tips on how to manage time, where to place the girls for the best lighting, how to coax them to cooperate.
“Got it covered,” he said, without great enthusiasm.
And so, I mentally prepared myself for the blank space to go in the scrapbook for “First Day of School 2015.”
Fast-forward to the next morning. There I was interviewing some CEO mucky mucks in Las Vegas when my phone chimed.
The photos! Husband came through, after all.
As I went to look, I didn’t even care if the quality wasn’t perfect. The thing is — these photos were great. Excellent. Maybe, perhaps, even best ever. The girls are smiling, happy and relaxed.
“Gosh,” I remarked to one of the girls that night, “the photos are really good. I didn’t see a single fake smile.”
“That’s because Dad didn’t drag out 13 cameras and make us take 400 photos,” she pointed out in an only slight teen exaggeration. “We only had time for three shots on his phone. We were running a little late, y’know.”
Picture this: Wife cuing up Frank Sinatra. Husband did it his way.
Now to get booked out of town for the start of school next year. It’s the only way to get the best first-day photos.
Trust me.
About the Author
