Today was my last elementary school picture day. Yes, it's technically Bob's picture day, but I really think of it as mine. I adore volunteering on picture day. The party dresses and the bow ties and the awkwardness and the "cheese!" all make for the best tiny-people watching experience ever.
There was a kindergartener who no matter what pose the photographer would set him up with, when it was time to snap his picture, the kid would automatically raise his hands over his head in a "V for victory."
There was the third grade girl who could not smile with out sticking her tongue through the open space where her two front teeth would soon be.
There was the boy who demanded to sit like Rodin's, The Thinker.
This morning I was explaining my love of picture day to a dad as he was attempting to sew together his third-grade son's clip-on tie. "But why? I don't get why you love it so much," he said. The needle and thread he was wrestling in his hands right then? That's why I love it so much.
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