Christmas card time, since we've had kids, has traditionally included a photo card. The easy part is sending out the cards. The hard part is getting the kids into cooperative picture mode.
For day-to-day pictures, they are generally pretty cooperative. Of course, with day-to-day pictures I'm not ordering them about like a drill sergeant or being particular on where they stand or what they wear.
For a potential Christmas card picture, sometimes the best way to show off our festive holiday spirit is to declare a tiny little war.
Well, okay, maybe not war...maybe just the smallest, tiniest of standoffs about something random and surprising.
In today's case it was over changing his shirt. When Tucker got dressed this morning (we hadn't sprung the whole picture thing on the kids yet because we decided it really late last night) he put on navy sweatpants, a red Mario Bros. shirt, and a black Wake Forest sweatshirt.
I should have left well enough alone, but noooooooooooo..........
I asked him to change into dark grey pants and a cream colored top. He changed his pants with no problem, but apparently the shirt I asked him to wear was made of bumblebees because he freaked out and refused. Robert was upstairs with him during most of the hoopla, so all I heard was Robert raising his voice, and Tucker's stomping around and yelling, "NO!" and then the crying.
Good Lord, the crying. Sigh.
I hear Robert tell Tucker that he can't be in the picture if he didn't stop it. It, of course, being acting like a maniac about putting on a beige shirt. I stifled a giggle because if Tucker was throwing a fit about changing clothes, the LAST thing he cared about was whether or not he was in the picture.
I finally called upstairs and told Robert it was okay if Tucker didn't want to be in the pictures. No point in forcing the issue when he was so upset. Worst case scenario, I'd just use a picture I already had of Tucker.
Within 20 minutes of Robert, Sara, and I taking pictures, Tucker came thumping down the stairs, intent on being a big ol' spoilsport.
Turns out the entire problem was that he wanted to wear his purple Kool-Aid shirt. In the scheme of things, I could care less what he wears for the most part. If he had said he wanted to wear that particular shirt to begin with, we could have negotiated...most of the pics in his clothing choices and hopefully some of the pics in ours. Not that big of a deal. Instead, there was a whole lot of this:
And finally a wardrobe change and this:
Good times, people. Good times.