It is a truth universally acknowledged (just not out loud in public) that most kids take mostly bad photos, most of the time.
This is a truth that applies to autistic and neurotypical alike. Sure, there may be different challenges. For example, Lina may not smile on command, does not find “look at the ducky!” in any way compelling (rightly so), and mainly responds to physical humor. This works well for taking pictures at the pool: daddy walks along, daddy “slips” and falls in the water with arms akimbo, hilarity ensues, mom takes a photo burst. Lina will probably appreciate Charlie Chaplin movies at the right stage, or other golden era Hollywood pratfalls. “Slip on a banana peel, the world’s at your feet!” type schtick, Lina is there for it. But a generic “cheese?” Honestly she’s probably thinking, “What kind? Like mac and cheese? Where?” And I get it.
Neurotypical kids have their own phases. Forget about taking pictures of two or three children. Someone will be crawling away, throwing a tantrum, murdering a sibling. We know this, yet we keep trying, and trying, and when we finally nail a good one by sheer luck and sticktuitiveness, of course we post it on social media. And then of course another mom sees it and goes, “Horse pucky. Anabella takes SUCH good photos! What’s wrong with my child and/or me?”
No no. Anabella took ONE good photo. Out of a hundred. A hundred photos of closed eyes, runny noses, pouty mouths, potty mouths, distractions, infractions, nose picking, face licking, thumb sucking, eye rubbing, brother biting, infighting, kicking and screaming. And one where she happened to smile. “She’s got it all together,” we think of that mom, when really she just has a bigger memory card.
I know these are the facts. I am no Cindy Crawford, and I don’t expect my daughter to be Kaia Gerber. And I try to take these facts to heart. Sometimes I succeed. When we decorated the Christmas tree this year, I didn’t touch my phone or camera. Usually I would jump back and forth like a deranged elf on wheels, snapping photos left and right, trying first to convince Lina to hold an ornament or touch the tree, then attempting to catch her at a good angle in the best light. And dudes, it was stressful. Forget about the delicate and irreplaceable heirloom ornaments my toddler was handling—I was way more concerned about capturing a smile. This year, I invited her to be involved with the decorating, but I left my camera out of it. I pointed out a dog ornament, a bear, a rabbit, explained who Santa Claus is and why she should care, and I asked her where I should hang a couple baubles. Briefly interested, she raised her arms in the air to ask me to pick her up, and she examined the twinkling lights before pointing to the perfect spot to hang a candy cane. Then she wanted to get down and play with her scooter and that was fine too. I’d like to think I’ll remember these quick moments, even without a photo collage – and maybe the memories will be even better.
On the other hand, I did take pictures on Thanksgiving. Why? Because my ten-month-old baby boy was in a bow tie and suspenders.
I mean. Right??
So I sat the two of them on the stairs and said to myself, “No expectations, just remember them today as they are.” And somehow, one of the first photos I took had them both looking at the camera, not necessarily smiling but also not appearing entirely miserable either.
It’s the small wins.
I’ll admit I pushed it a little farther than I probably should have. After a series of photos in which Lina gently but resolutely pushed the baby down by his face and the baby squawked and pulled her hair, I called it. And I was happy nonetheless. Because that too was capturing them as they are.
Nothing’s ever perfect. Not life, not children, not parenthood. And definitely. MOST DEFINITELY. Not pictures.
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