Extra Innings: Next year, can I just hire models??

Sometimes traditions continue rolling merrily along just as they are, with no changes whatsoever, from as far back as people's memories go--while other times, they need some gentle tweaking to carry on uninterrupted. In this case, I'm referring to the Team WestEnders custom of including a snapshot in front of our Christmas tree on the holiday cards we send out each year. So, Derek being away at college caused a dilemma: assemble the tree super-early...hold off on decorating for several more weeks until he comes home after his Final Exams...or move the family photo fest to a different setting?

After some deliberation (time elapsed: 5 minutes) and consultation with the clan (sample dialogue: "You good with that? Yeah? Okay, then...") it was decided that we'd simply set up the pictures one room over, in front of the fireplace, which I could quickly and easily adorn for the Yuletide season.

The only minor hitch occurred when Derek, deeply ensconced on the sofa in the midst of some hotly contested college football game between bitter rivals (blah blah blah) tore his eyes briefly from the broadcast action to remark, "We're gonna need to do it at halftime, though." I didn't even feel it necessary to respond verbally to such a ridiculous statement, but rather fixed him with the patented Mom's Silent Death Stare...causing him to hastily backpeddle with the much more reasonable, "Or, you know, whatever works for you is fine!" (That's right, sonny--and don't you forget it!)

When I was ready to get this show on the road, or whatever, I returned to the sports viewing domain, where we encountered our first problem...Derek's attire. You see, he was wearing an utterly obnoxious t-shirt that Husband gave him last year, depicting the University of Miami's "turnover chain" splashed in gaudy screen-print across the front. Um...nooooo--it may be green, but it certainly doesn't count as appropriate...elf gear. Derek was, shall we say, "less than pleased" by my parental demand that he change, so in defiance, he selected an only slightly less offensive option (sent to him by his godfather, and stating a common sentiment among those affiliated with Penn State). Eh, at least it was...a wee bit subtler?...so I threw up my hands and let him get away with it.

And then, the real...let's call it "entertainment"...began. First, of course, there was the annual "relearning how to use my camera's self-timer", which only took me a couple of seconds this year, but was long enough for the children to "help" me with a Test Frame (#1).

Then there was the inevitable Scramble Shot: "Did I push the button already? Was that the beep? Oh, shoot, we're not quite ready yet!" (#2).

Next we moved on to the version where it all starts to go haywire, with me getting exasperated, like "Okay, we've HAD our fun--now everyone cooperate; get over here; center yourselves; make sure we can see you; stand nicely; smile at the lens...I said a nice expression, not a grimace; DO NOT CLOSE YOUR EYES, DEREK; and for the love of all things holy, let's make the freakin' magic happen, people!"

This is more or less verbatim, by the way, but it was all for naught, because just when I thought I'd badgered the recalcitrant menfolk into submission, the normally well-behaved youngest member of our quartet suddenly yelled "Text BALLS to 202020!" just before the shutter clicked...and you can see the hilarity that ensued--among the Male Trio, anyway. (#3. And also, not that you or I care, but apparently that command came from a commercial frequently shown during televised sporting events, for some sort of testosterone-enhancing product, and the slogan is therefore embedded in their brains. Oh, goody...)

Eventually (possibly after I threatened to cut off their food supply, but no one can prove that) everyone managed to calm down, act reasonably maturely for one hot minute, and participate in the heartwarming holiday portrait of 2018 (or what passes for it...but hey, I'll take what I can get! See below...). Because immediately following this, they naturally reverted right back to Couch Potatoes, and I crossed my fingers in the hopes that I'd gotten something I could edit into card-worthy material. I swear, you'd think at some point that this endeavor would get, I don't know, EASIER each December, wouldn't you?

But in the end, I suppose I really should focus on feeling grateful to have my goofballs...even with their silly quirks...all in the same house around the holidays. So on that note: cheers, y'all!