The Puddles

My children are beautiful delightful creatures of God’s handiwork who can become (at the exact moment that I want to take a nice picture of them) truly the spawns of Satan!  Are they truly trying to spoil my one true desire to have a nice photo of them in the bluebonnets?  Maybe it is because they are not native Texans.  Do the bluebonnets compel all those non-natives to be devious while amongst the state flower?  I don’t get it.  I explained to Ben and Ainsley that taking pictures in the bluebonnets was what Mommy wanted most in life.  If they did this nicely, it would be the greatest gift that they could give to Mommy.  Didn’t they want to give Mommy a gift?  Yes, of course they all replied.  My foot!  They had no desire to be helpful to me.  None.  Hardly a smile crossed their lips.    Instead I heard . . . “I’m hungry.  I’m thirsty. Bugs! Dirt!  They won’t share the blanket.  I don’t like these flowers.  He’s touching me.  She’s touching me.  Get off me!  Mom, are we done?  Can I leave?  etc. etc. etc.”

Did I mention that Chris refuses to go with me?  He said something about how he would rather have Jeffrey Dahlmer move in with him than go take pictures in the bluebonnets with me? Second time I asked him, he said, “Did hell freeze over?”  Third time I asked him, he asked me if I needed a body limb because he would rather donate one to me than come with me to the bluebonnets.  Ok.  I get your point.  Thanks, dear.  I think that I may consider “Photo shopping” my children into the bluebonnets next year instead.