Yesterday afternoon we met up with our favorite beach photographer for some updated pics of the boys (you know, because we don’t have any photos of our children). On the way to meet her, SK gave them the talk. You know the one…
Don’t act up.
Say yes ma’am and no ma’am.
No fighting.
No ugly words.
We didn’t expect they would do any of those things, but gave them a refresher just in case. They agreed, and all felt right with the world.
Until she snapped the first picture. Graham was flashing his famous fake smile and in an attempt to get him to lighten up, she asked Wells to whisper something funny in his ear. Two seconds later, G was bursting into a fit a giggles. “Awww,” I thought smugly to myself. “Look at my boys, laughing and looking precious.” Then, the photographer asked Wells what he whispered. They looked at each other and then in unison yelled, “BUTT HOLE.”
And then, I died.
Next it was Graham’s turn to whisper something funny. I prayed to the good Lord above this response would be G rated (or at least PG-13), and then closed my eyes and went to my happy place. She asked Graham what he said to his brother to which he replied, “I’m a dirty pilgrim.”
Seriously. I am dead.
Next she asked them to give each other a hug. Y’all. It was THE most awkward/painful hug ever. Wells had G in a headlock and Graham sucker punched him in the ribs. Of course, this lead to a full on ultimate fighting championship. There are no words. The photographer asked SK and me to get in the next photo (probably in the hopes that we would control our offspring). But no. She asked the children to hug us from behind. You know where this is going. Mom AND Dad in a headlock. Over the next four poses, I was head butted, my hair was pulled, SK was kneed in the crotch and I lost a contact. And my dignity.
Not to mention, I was wearing a pair of big leg pants that I proceeded to trip on no less than 10 times. And, Rashy McRasherson (formerly known as G) was covered in red spots. Oh, and Wells was flashing a fancy new face fungus. SK just had steam coming out of his ears and looked like his head was going to spin around.
I really don’t know what happened. It was like we gave them coke (the illegal kind) and told them they had permanent amnesty. Luckily, the photographer is the most laid back, chill person. As far as I know, she didn’t call DHS. Or animal control.
As soon as we got back in the car, they put away their crazy and said it was the most fun they ever had taking pictures. Then they asked if we could go for ice cream.
Sorry kids. No ice cream for dirty pilgrims.
