Picture perfect
Writing date: December 2020
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: none :)
Word count: 842
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When people asked your husband, a photographer, to show them his favourite picture, they never saw what they expected.
It was a picture he'd taken on an idle afternoon in early January. He'd just come home from the only shoot he had scheduled that day, closing the door behind him with a soft click and absorbing the view in front of him.
You were standing in your kitchen, your youngest baby resting on your left hip while her older brother was seated on the kitchen counter. You were humming a soothing melody, either for yourself or for your kids, he didn't know, and mixing some things in a bowl. All around you, there were used spoons, opened packages of flour and sugar, a few cracked egg shells on a paper towel and an already-greased baking tin. The sunlight streamed through the windows and bathed the entire room in a golden colour, a sharp contrast with the woolly white layer of snow that covered the landscape outside.
You turned around when you heard his greeting, a warm smile playing around your lips, taking a few strides out of the kitchen and kissing his cheek. He returned your kiss, kissed the bouncing baby on your hip, and then, crouching down, bestowed a final feathery kiss to your protruding stomach.
"Daddy, we're baking auntie's lemon bars!"
From the corner of your eye, you saw your oldest son trying to hide his dough-covered fingers when he realised he had just turned the attention of both his parents on him. You decided not to comment on it for now — it's not like you hadn't been the same way up until you were forced to set a good example.
Your husband walked to your son, giving him a kiss in his unruly hair and asking him how the dough tasted, and you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes.
"Is my tummy going to hurt now, daddy?"
He was whispering it, as if trying to make sure at least one of his parents wouldn't know about his little adventure.
You watched as your husband's eyes glinted mischievously.
"If you only ate a little, no, but there is a chance that there's a lemon tree growing in your belly now."
Your son tilted his head to the side, and you were surprised at how he was curious, rather than scared.
"So...just like there's a baby in mummy's belly, there's a lemon tree growing in mine now?”
He had pulled up his shirt now, pointing at it with a finger on his other hand to make sure his dad knew what he was talking about.
You felt your daughter mimic her brother, something she'd started doing more and more these last few months, and you let out a chuckle, catching the attention of your husband.
You saw it happening, the change in his face, his eyes becoming just a little brighter, the right corner of his mouth climbing upwards, his fingers already taking on their familiar position on the camera that was still hanging around his neck.
"Darling, can you come sit on the counter too, please?”
You did as he had asked, already used to moments like this. It'd make him really happy, you knew, and you often ended up with a really nice picture that you could hang alongside all the other pictures that covered the walls of your home. Carefully, you put your daughter on the counter next to her brother, before hopping on it too.
"Okay, now all show me your bellies! One—“
And that was when the chaos occurred. It started with the kitchen timer going off, telling you it was ready for the shortbread dough, but also startling your daughter, and making your son realise that no one would notice him swirling his finger just a little too enthusiastically into the batter, which caused the unfilled baking tin to clatter onto the ground.
Your husband did, however, manage to take exactly one picture before your daughter started crying, not yet used to the shrill sound of the kitchen timer, or the crash of the tin on the floor.
When people asked your husband, a photographer, to show them his favourite picture, they never saw what they expected.
The background was filled with all sorts of baking necessities, your son was staring with heart-shaped eyes to the batter that was out of frame, your daughter was staring up at you with wide eyes, treading the fine line between crying and laughing, and you were clearly about to hop off of the counter to try to calm down the chaos. It wasn't a picture-perfect, but the love it contained was somehow more tangible than in any other photo he had ever taken, and because of that, it would forever remain his favourite.