I’m sitting here looking at our front door which is full of Christmas cards from friends and family.  We won’t take them down until after New Years, along with the Christmas lights and the Christmas tree.  I can’t help but remembering our adventure this year with our Christmas card family photo.

Our goal was to get a simple family picture that we could put onto a holyday card.  We wanted to avoid bells and whistles and make it as painless as possible.  We decided on a photo studio, Mami scheduled an appointment and when the day came, we headed out.

When we arrived at the photo studio, which is located in a local department store, I was surprised to hear that we were already next.  It was a good start.  “Ok, come on in,” the photographer said. We all walked into a “studio,” which I’m sure doubles as a broom closet during the off season.  I began to hope this would be short and sweet.

The boys were immediately attracted to the fake Christmas tree and fake presents.  I was taken by how the photographer was talking to us.  “OOO---K, let’s have Mommy and Daddy on the couch first and then you boys.”   Her voice was a clearly two octaves higher than normal and it seemed to be directed at us, the parent.  It was like she was saying, “Look at me folks, I’m a professional who knows how to talk to children…really.”  

I felt like telling her, “I’m the actor here, Lady and I can see past the plastic smile.”  It was the kind of smile that seemed to slip just a little whenever the boys got distracted by something shiny and new.  I know that what she was really thinking was, “Look folks see how patient I’m pretending to be with your kids.  Please buy lots of prints.”

The boys ignored her.  Somehow JT had slipped away from us and was trying to pull an ornament of the Christmas tree.  “No, no,” the photographer blurted out.  I could see frustration in her eyes but the smile never left her face.  The smile seemed to say, “Just seven more hours to go.”

I noticed then that there was another person in the room but she’d been working hard not to get in the way.  Before I figured out who she was we were hustled onto a couch that was clearly meant for a butt smaller than mine.  JT had smuggled a Spiderman action figure out of the car and was determined to have him in the shot.  Q was eying a present on the floor.  Mami was trying to convince both of them to listen to the nice photographer lady who was making her way behind the camera.  Suddenly the photographer shouted, “Look at me,” and as the boys looked up they were surprised by a blinding flash.  “Great,” she lied. 

“Ok,” her sing-song voice continued, “everybody up except Daddy.”  It was almost like she was going for that Snow White tremolo thing with the birds chirping in the background.  The image was cut short when Q asked, “Why are we getting up?”   Being questioned caught her off guard so, she ignored it. 

I realized then that the second person in the room was a “photographer in training” (apologies to all my Photographer friends).  JT was really starting to loose interest at this point and Spiderman made another appearance.  The trainee stepped in to try to help.  She seemed very nice and said, “Let’s take Spiderman and hide him in this box and…”

“Excuse me?” the commander-in-chief of all department store photographers broke in.  Authority was oozing from in and around her little green apron.   “Oh, I’m sorry,” the trainee said as she stepped back, all but bowing.  The photographer lady raised her chin just a little and added a smidge more honey to her smile as she whipped out a pair of white gloves connected to red sleeves.  She walked over to Q and handed him a wrapped gift box with a big bow.  “Stand right there,” she said.

While she instructed me to put on the Santa sleeves for the next picture Q and JT start investigating the gift box.  They finally manage to open the gift and of course it was empty. 

JT looked at the photographer and his face said it all.  “Who gives an empty present to a kid?”  Then Q looked at me as if to say, “Papi, this woman’s an idiot.”   I had to agree. 

The session continued and I started thinking about the oxygen level in the room.  The photographer kept taking more shots of the boys alone and I noticed that Mami was starting to loose it.   The Christmas train had left the station and it was a one way trip.  Mami also knew what was coming.

Our original goal was to take a nice family picture with no one crying, everyone’s eyes open and no one’s fingers in their (or their bother’s) nose.  But we were now entering the impulse buying portion of the photo shoot.   These are the shots a parent doesn’t expect to see but inevitably looks at and says, “Oh gosh, my child looks so cute.  I have to get these.  Give me 200 copies.”

Well, Mami wasn’t having it.  She had prepared herself for just this kind of emotional con job.  Mami
had engaged in both physical and mental training, hardening herself against this kind of emotional manipulation.   The result was that Mami could walk past a frolicking puppy in the store window and not bother with a second look.  Even the cute kitten playing with the ball of string had no effect.  As a matter of fact Mami could probably walk past a lonely duckling wandering around an alligator pit and not bat an eyelash.  Her heart strings will not be tugged.

We finally got through the photo shoot and made our way to the computer screens to see our options.  The trainee showed us our choices and more.  “No,” Mami said to the colorful borders.  “No,” she said to the black and white alternate versions and the sepia tone antique look.  “No,” to the family shot where JT has his eyes closed because the photographer scared him with the flash the first time.  She was the Rock of Gibraltar, the unmovable object.  The trainee was in a loosing battle.  And then we get to the pictures of the kids alone.  Digging deep she brought all her training to bear and with the focus and concentration of a Master she turned to me and said, “What do you think?”

I’m momentarily stunned.   I stumbled but quickly recovered.  I too have done my share of preparation for just such an event.  I saw now that it had fallen to me, Papi, the man of the house to defend our right to choose for ourselves.  We had the right to be free of coercion and intimidation.  I was the last line of defense in our quest to get just what we need and nothing more.  I stepped up, straightening to my full height of 5’ 9”.   Taking a deep breath I responded, “Yea, those are fine.  Get the one with the two boys getting the present from Santa Claus.  That one’s good.” 

In the end I think it’s the principle of the thing.   Let’s revisit our goal:  To get a family picture we could put on our Christmas cards.  Well, we got it and we also got couple of wonderful shots of our boys and only paid $11.95.  It was a decision that had to be made on the spur of the moment. So, I made it.  And after all, my boys looked so cute I had to get them.