Not Just Another Mother Blogger!: photobombs

My kid is constantly in motion. Even when I was pregnant with him, Zane seemed to always be moving around, running in place, dancing, kicking field goals, etc. Now that there's nothing between him and the world, he's all up in everything, asking questions, making observations or comments as he chooses. He may have that ADHD thing, but it's more probably that Zane may just be a real boy. Stranger things have happened.

But the tricky thing about a perpetual motion machine is that they are difficult to photograph in their natural habitat. Most of my early photos consisted of blurs, so we bought a camera that we just keep on the "sport" setting all the time. We also take many pictures of us holding Zane, trying to contain that energy for the seconds it takes to snap the shutter.

Occasionally, however, we get lucky. We were at a restaurant called Good Time Charlie's one cloudy day in June. I don't know about Larry and Zane, but I was there for the chicken fried steak. Because if you're going to go to a place called Good Time Charlie's, you do not order a salad. We brought in the trusty tablet, so Zane would actually remain seated for the entire meal. While he was sitting there, I snapped a few pictures with my phone.

Most of the pictures looked something like this:

Would you just STOP?

I had to keep interrupting a rousing game of Plants vs. Zombies 2 in order to get Zane to actually look in the direction of the phone. After the fourth or fifth time, I started to hear the familiar refrain: "Moooommm!" I kept on pressing the button, however. That's my secret to photographing children: keep bugging them, and eventually they'll start smiling. Or stop smiling. Which also makes for some dramatically spectacular photos. Also, good blackmail photos, for those awkward teen years.

And finally, you end up with a decent picture. A keeper. One to frame...except for the old lady photobomber. I am pretty sure that she kept looking over at our table because she was experiencing Lunch Envy. She did not order the chicken fried steak. I wasn't about to tell her to stop ruining my photo opp; she looked mean enough to bite.