Do you know what I’ve never been a fan of? I mean, other than snakes and cottage cheese and cliffhanger endings on season finales, so that you have to wait all summer long, through heat and thunderstorms and back-to-school shopping, before the fall rolls around and you can catch up on your TV programs to find out WHAT HAPPENED?
That would be the camera in my iPhone. The two of us — that camera and I — just never really hit it off. Oh, I enjoyed my iPhone alright, in the beginning, because USER FRIENDLY! And YAY! But then my camera was all, LOOK! ONE-THIRD OF A SINGLE MEGAPIXEL, SO I’M JUST GOING TO GO AHEAD AND BLUR EVERYTHING OUT FOR YOU.
And now? Well, I still feel like my phone’s camera is similar to a nasty neighbor, who lets his St. Bernard and Shetland Pony do their business in your front yard. And then the home button on my iPhone gave up the ghost and quit breathing. I tried every manner of life-sustaining support I could give to it — I smacked it a couple of times against the counter, I talked lovely to it, and I consulted the boy, who seems to be armed and dangerous when it comes to knowledge on all things technical these days, but that home button just kept gasping out its last breath… for days. I suspect that this is directly related to the small fact that I used my phone’s upgrade to buy the boy a Samsung Galaxy Something-Something-Something Mega Phone That Launches Real NASA Rockets At The Touch Of A Button for his Christmas gift.
Which means… I don’t have an upgrade for myself any longer.
But the favor of the Lord always shines brightest on those who set aside their selfishness in the name of helping others.
Thankfully, I am married to a man who makes a living by understanding the wires and motherboards in all things electronic. Hubs put a little icon on my phone that is the palest of see-clear-through-it gray, and THAT is my home button now. I can tap it, as it sits right there on all of my phone’s screens, and it will immediately, without hesitating or backtalking or shouting ugly words at me, take me to my home screen.
Without it, my iPhone would be very similar to the phones you buy in the Infant and Toddler section of any supercenter’s toy aisles.
I had to clear a small legion of photos off of my phone this past weekend, because I kept getting an insulting message that told me my cloud was full. After days of seeing this note pop up, I finally asked Hubs, “What does that mean? What kind of hippie talk is this?”
Apparently, it’s code for YOUR DATA STORAGE IS NEARLY FULL, AND PRETTY SOON WE’RE GOING TO START TOSSING RANDOM PHOTOS OUT OF YOUR WAREHOUSE UNIT, LIKE A TODDLER DIGGING THROUGH A FULL TOYBOX, TO CLEAR UP SOME SPACE.
So tonight, I just have one giant iPhone dump for you, and I’ll go ahead and apologize ahead of time, because the picture quality is lower than a snake’s belly in a wagon wheel rut. I think it’ll quickly become apparent to y’all that my iPhone’s camera thinks of me as an evil stepsister, and it’s seeking revenge by giving me the gift of grainy, awful-bad pictures.
So… without further ado (which is really Fancy Talk for Let’s Get Started), I give you some poor photography.
Look! The boy aged during his week of camp.
And these? Well, THESE were taken clear back at Halloween time, when the boy and I were in Bigger Town, USA, and we split our sides wide open, howling with laughter, over trying on the costumes in Target.
Gage and his family live on a miniature farm. They have chickens and a cow and real barn cats who sleep outside all winter. The boy loves to go out there and throw rocks in their river, drive their tractor, and hang out with Gage.
Oh. And he likes to hold the chickens, too.
What’s so funny is that we saw an advertisement for Diet Pepsi on TV last week, and our toddler shouted out, “Juice! Grammy’s juice!!”
Here are two of my cute nieces with Thing 2. I call them The Nanny and The Babysitter, because if one of them is in the vicinity, I can be excused from chasing the busy toddler, because they are on it.
And yes. Thing 2 really DOES have a small soft side, which tells him to hug baby dolls, instead of tossing them onto the floor. He doesn’t like to talk about it, though. It should be noted that when Cousin H realized Thing 2 had her baby, she set off a verbal alarm that reached a decibel where windows are shattered into dust. She was afraid that Dolly was going to be kidnapped, and she was having none of it.
Do y’all pass your kids’ clothing on to someone else? We’ve always just handed the boy’s clothes down to Cousin K, who is eight. It’s always fun to see him show up to church or our house, wearing one of the boy’s cute outfits from years gone by. Our friend, Carrie, passes her sons’ clothes on to Thing 2, and she always sighs and says, “It’s so good to see my kids’ shirts in action again!” Well. We’ve been directing Sister to pass clothes along to Carrie, after Cousin K is finished with them, and then Carrie sends me snapshots like this one! Her boys are all decked out in the boy’s old hand-me-downs, and my heart was happy, because we LOVED and also ADORED that John Deere tractor shirt. Yes, it really is fun to see your boy’s old shirts having a new life on some other little person.
This is one of my all-time favorite snapshots, and I wish (TRULY WISH!!) that I’d managed to capture it on my real Canon, instead of my fluff-for-personality iPhone camera. I love that the boy is holding both his little brother and his little cousin, and that his STRAIGHT-FROM-SOCCER-PRACTICE socks nearly reach his spine.
One morning, Sister and I strapped The Littles into their strollers, and we took them on a long walk that ended at a pond. I’m sure you can imagine which toddler nearly fell into the water, and only remained dry because his quick-thinking auntie managed to grab the back of his shirt in the nick o’ time.
Thing 2 found the deepest desire of his heart… he found what he wants for Christmas already. He sat in this race car at the store one day, and we had a nuclear, Code Red, Ninety-Six Fire Engine Fire-type meltdown when it was time to get out of the car and head for home.
Last week, we met my friend Sarah and her three kiddos in the park. Sarah’s son, Henry (who is a big first grader) can pull a red wagon at a speed that nearly causes necks to snap in half. Thing 2 loved it, and wouldn’t let Henry rest that morning! He kept demanding, “More! More wagon, Henry!” And Henry, because he’s seven and full of energy, produced more wagon.
Afterward, we went to Sarah’s house for some Water Time in the backyard, so that Henry’s body temperature could cool down by forty degrees, since he’d basically sprinted the equivalent to four marathons, while he was pulling a red wagon behind him.
Henry, his twin brother, Sam, and Thing 2 ended up using the hose in the sandbox, where they created Venice.
If you’re still with me, reading this post to the very end, you need some sort of crown atop your head. I’m not sure that I’ve ever pulled off a more boring post.
Carry on with your very interesting lives now.