I was combing Zizza’s hair and she was taking pictures with my phone. She took quite a few of herself and then turned on her brother. In the first photo he was blank faced and looking up so she coached him a bit. “Smile, Enz and look at the camera.” This time the photo was a success. She looked at her accomplishment and frowned.
“His pictures are always cuter than mine!” she harrumphed. I tried to point out that the problem was she was taking her photo herself which makes thing tricky in the first place not to mention, she was having her hair combed a the time which was certainly not a help but she heard none of it. She grumbled and stormed about her brothers photogenic luck all the way out to the car and on to the first car pool pick up.
I was looking forward to sharing the photos to accompany this story but when I tried to show them to the Mr. I found that she hadn’t saved them. My phone is full of photos of her fingers, random household items and my face wearing exaggerated smiles at her encouragement, all of which she managed to save. The pictures I wanted however were discarded.
I guess if I thought my little brother was cuter than I was I probably wouldn’t save the photographic evidence either.