It took until I turned 37 to take the plunge. The prospect of being a Dad definitely had appeal, but there were certain tasks that come with that great responsibility of fatherhood that I honestly wanted no part of. And on Sunday, November 21st at 11:30 AM I officially endured one of them:
The JC Penny's Portrait Studio.
I'll admit it, I had a bad feeling about this from the get-go. But the plan to capture the Lil' Dictator permanently on Kodachrome quickly went from bad to "oh my God I think I might actually end up hurting myself or somebody else with a blunt object" when we arrived for our appointment to discover a lobby crammed full of preening parents and their dressed up snot nosed, out of control spawns.
It was if Little Miss Sunshine met the Walking Dead.
Seeing this mass amalgamation of kids, parents, strollers, diaper bags, grandparents, snacks and runny noses in such a small confined space before noon and without having had the benefit of an adult beverage to calm my nerves nearly sent me into a state of immediate panic. It was all the TLB could do to keep me from turning tail and fleeing with the boy child to the relative safety of the Food Court.
But I didn't. There were pictures to be taken God dammit, moments to be cherished, and most importantly Christmas presents for the grandparents to be made. I was going to have to grin and bear it. Now if only the Lil' Dictator would do the same.
So we tried to make our way to the front counter, but were nearly knocked over by an overly eager Grandma frothing at the mouth to purchase overpriced images of her inbred looking 3 year old grandchild. When we eventually made it to the front, we were met by an anorexic looking emo girl with a hair-don't that looked like it was a cross pollinated mash up from Elvira and the boys from Poison.
She seemed as if she wasn't all there that day as she gave us a blank deer in the headlights stare when asked the very simple question of how long the wait would be until it was our turn. Eventually we coaxed an answer from her: 20 minutes. Even with our appointment.
Oh and, honey, a word of advice... you might want to take a few less blue Mercedes at the rave the night before work if you want to function the next day. Trust me. I've been there. It isn't any fun.
So we made our way to the waiting area, where I studied the assembled families who had seemingly put a lot of importance on this yearly picture taking experience. Some had come for a group picture with the entire family, some had just that one little spoiled precious, while other breeders had multiple children they wished to take pictures of for this wonderful season of sharing.
And sadly, most of you reading this review will be the recipients of these pictures, in the form of those dreaded happy holiday cards or family newsletters from relatives unknown, updating you on their status while putting a positive spin on Bob's dead end job search, Jenny's failed marriage, Peter's addiction to hookers, and Jan's eating disorder, while wishing you and yours the most happy of holiday seasons.
And a quick note to parents, who are you trying to kid? Darling Billy's hair might be perfectly parted down the middle, and little Susie might have oh so cute curly pink ribbons billowing in her flawlessly curled hair, and they might both be sporting Sunday's best while serving up smiles Rambling Rod would be proud of.
But you can't fool us.
We see the fear in their eyes. We recognize the hollow expression of dread that comes from Mom losing her cool in the minivan and threatening to cancel X-mas, birthdays and puberty if they even think about ruining this opportunity to prove to the in-laws that they are a perfectly happy and normal family....and GOD Dammit, YOU ARE NOT GOING TO MESS THIS UP FOR ME THIS TIME!!!
You wish to appear as the perfect family, but your kids are no different than everybody else's. They are all bugger eating, hyper active, conniving little brats that are only being good and smiling at the camera because they have to. They want to live to see another Christmas.
So as I'm pondering these thoughts our time finally arrives and to be honest, it went a lot smoother than I ever thought possible. The photographer was quick, professional and somehow managed to capture a few fetching images of the Lil' Dictator that will unfortunately be making their way onto a Season's Greetings card from the Listers. That's right. We are now one of them.
But at least my kid is different. He's perfect because he isn't somebody else's kid. He's mine. read more