I’m about to tell you something truly awful. Feel free to judge me…I accept it.
My only son is four and a half years old, I’m a professional photographer, and until last weekend the last time I made a portrait of him he was 18 months old.
I know. I can barely believe it myself. The worst part is, he’s not even that unwilling of a subject. Lots of photographers complain about their children being adversarial with the camera, and mine aren’t at all. Sure, B-Ro might have asked 8 times during these little sessions if he could go inside yet, but he never flat out told me no. In fact, he’s pretty fine with the whole thing.
I’m an embarrassment to mamarazzis everywhere.
I have a couple of theories on the subject though.
First, I think I’m in solid denial about how old my child actually is. I mean, did you click on that 18 month portrait link? It’s totally the same kid. Apparently, time flies when your child’s face doesn’t change for 3 years.
Of course, my other theory is probably more accurate. My honest-to-goodness portraits of Ephraim slowed down around the same time my business picked up. As I got busier with client work I didn’t make time for sessions with my own kiddos. My snapshots of them went into overdrive, of course, but their “real” pictures were skipped more often than not.
So last weekend, we made up for lost time. And one of these bad boys is already hanging up at the Cottage. Care to guess which one?