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Top 5: Ways for schools to torture parents When School Picture Day rolls around you can pretty much guarantee 7 things... Read the full story
Last Year's Picture Day (in honor of this year's)
1) Drama will ensue as you try to make or keep your child “picture ready”
2) Tears will follow (whether they are yours or your child’s is pretty much irrelevant)
3) Your child will look awkward no matter what you do
4) It will all be memorialized. Digitally.
5) You will pay too much for these memories (seriously, you might go fucking broke)
6) Your child will get made fun of at least once in their lifetime because of this picture
7) On “Retake Day” you will do it all over again (see Items 1-6)
Yup. In our house, Picture Day is not like other days. For one thing, on other days Thing 2 doesn’t bring a comb to school. He doesn’t even use a comb before he leaves for school. We can’t really hold it against him either. He’s got a mean cowlick right where his bangs should be. A strip of plastic with long pokey teeth is simply no match for that kind of unruliness. And we know because on too many occasions he has tried to comb his cowlick down, just so, and then twist it into a subtle curl, the goal being to look like his older brother, Thing 1. No easy feat given that Thing 2’s hair is dirty blonde and straight as a Houston highway whereas Thing 1’s is brown and curly.
When Thing 2 tries to comb down his cowlick the tips stay glued just above his eyes but the rest of his hair ends up popping up at the top of his forehead, sort of like a backward pompadour.
Not a good look.
This is why we like to dissuade him from using a comb to begin with. As long as we get him groomed every six weeks or so then his hair tends to “style itself” anyhow. No biggie, right?
I mean, it’s hard to tell a six year old that his hair looks wrong. Believe me there have been many conversations where we tried to spare his feelings with our polite insinuations. But Thing 2 doesn’t “get” subtle. He’s a guy, after all, and guys usually deal much better with the direct fire method. It took both of his parents and his brother sitting around a table, not altogether unlike a staged intervention, amassing the strength in numbers needed to tell Thing 2 (who let me remind you is practically still a preschooler) “You’re hair really doesn’t look good like that” for it to finally sink in. Poor little guy handled it like a man.
Today he promises me he will only be using his comb to tidy up the back of his head. I’m still not totally convinced he won’t go for the cowlick comb-down look. But I do find some solace knowing there is always “My-Kid-Looked-All-Messed-Up-in-His-Picture-Can-We-Get-a-Do-over Day’ to fall back on. Or as the school likes to call it … Picture Retake Day.
Both boys have gotten accustomed to picking out their clothes the night before, a habit I’d say cuts down on the morning shouting by a solid 50%. The boys must really prefer the less shouty version of me because they sure jumped on the whole laying-your-clothes-out-the-night-before thing in a quick hurry. They’re all over this new routine.
Last night when Thing 1 selected his Picture Day outfit he was Mr. Independent as usual. Since he’s been dressing a little more fashion-forward lately (it’s Fourth Grade after all) it was just another day for him. The fact that he was going to be photographed intimidated him not in the least. He picked out a nice fitted maroon button down with cool snaps instead of buttons and a black pair of fitted cargo pants. Done and done.
One kid down. One to go.
Picture Day also happens to be Field Trip Day for Thing 2. All three first grade classes are going to see a production of “Pippi Longstocking” at the Seattle Children’s Theater. Who in their right mind expects a pile of six year olds to go through two recesses, lunch and an entire field trip, all before getting their pictures taken … and still look camera ready? Poor planning if ever I saw it.
Thing 2 deliberated a little more seriously with his Picture/Field Trip Day selection.
Definitely not his usual approach. Typically he opts for pretty much the same tired rotation of outfits over and over again. All Puma, right down to the socks. He just keeps pulling the same shit off the top of the pile day in and day out. It’s enough to incite a premature Goodwill drive by.
But even Thing 2 knows not to attempt the sporty look on Picture/Field Trip Day. He tries on several Polo shirts, including the Kelly green one he wore last year for his Kindergarten Picture Day, before settling on a brightly-colored horizontal-striped Polo.
Then on to the pants.
Just before the school year started, we coerced Thing 2 into trying on some of Thing 1’s hand-me-downs to see if they fit him yet. Both Orly and I “ooohed” and “ahhhed” over a pair of khaki pants – they hugged him perfectly and made his little six year old booty look ever so pinchable.
Thing 2 made a big production out of selecting these khakis for his Picture/Field Trip outfit. Yup, he knew he had us right where he wanted us. “These will look especially nice for the theater”. He actually said that.
On Picture Day morning the kids are real go-getters from the moment I wake them up. They are all smiles and prim and properness as they make their way down the stairs. Both boys even get to the table before I have breakfast completely ready. That never happens.
Yes, I know I am taking a risk by giving them berries with their pancakes (but they are a
“You better not drop anything on your clothes.”
“No berries.”
“No syrup.”
“Nothing!”
They inch a little closer to the table after that stern warning, believe you me.
We make it through breakfast and it’s pretty much smooth sailing from there. Since I am driving them to school we have a few extra minutes to get out of the house. Usually I’m all “Get your jackets on, go pee, and get downstairs” and I have to say it at least four or five times until I finally lose my cool and YELL it - punctuated with a big fat screechy “NOW” at the end.
I like that there is no yelling on Picture Day.
The boys head into the bathroom together. I’m not sure where the whole “double peep” idea came from. On school days I always prod the boys to have one final “just-in-case-the-bus-breaks-down” pit stop right before we walk out the door. Thing 1 and Thing 2 usually go to the toilet and perform this act in unison. Initially we found it to be really cute (oh, look, not only do they share bunk beds, they also pee together, how sweet). It’s become so routine we hardly even notice it anymore. (But I totally get it if you think it’s just plain screwed up. I believe you).
While the double peep is being executed, ever the efficient mom, I run upstairs to throw the laundry in the washing machine.
And that’s when I hear it.
“OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
“THINNNNNNNNNNG 1111111111111111111111!!!!!”
“YOU JUST PEED ALL OVER ME”.
And then again, coming to the realization of what this really means.
“THING 1!!!! YOU JUST PEED ALL OVER ME!!!!”
I book my ass downstairs and into the bathroom where, wouldn’t you know, both legs of Thing 2’s adorable khaki’s are now marred with big wet spots.
I look, expressionless, from Thing 2 to Thing 1. Thing 1 back to Thing 2. Jumbo tears are welling up in Thing 2’s blue saucery eyes and they are about to spill over his uber long lashes. Thing 1 just stands there with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds until finally he offers quietly: “I’m sorry Thing 2”.
As in “I’m sorry I just pissed all over your Picture Day pants!”
It isn’t just Thing 2’s pants that got doused. The rest of Thing 1’s urine resides on the floor in a big nasty puddle … has he completely missed the toilet?
“Thing 1 this is RIDICULOUS!” I groan.
“Don’t you know how to pee in a toilet????”
Clearly he does not.
“We’re going up to change Thing 2’s pants.”
“You better get a towel and clean up the floor … and do it fast!”
Then to both of them:
“And I don’t ever want to see you doing a double peep again!”
“NEVER AGAIN.”
“Do you hear me?”
“EVER!”
Because that’s when the obvious smacks me upside the head: Double peeps equals double the likelihood of getting peed on and double the likelihood of pissing me off. Why hadn’t I seen this coming?
When Thing 2 gets home I am relieved to see that his hair looks pretty much just as it had before he left that morning, and he doesn’t look all scuzzed up from his big day at the theater/lunch/the playground.
I ask him how Picture Day went.
“Good.”
“Show me how you smiled, cutie”
He smiles.
“Oh”
“Um.”
“Is that really how you smiled?”
“Uh-huh”
“Maybe we should have practiced that before you went to school.”
Fade smile.
Picture Do-over Day here we come.
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