My 10yo son (OK, he's nine, but will be 10 in a month) asked me the other day, "Mom, are you sure I'm not adopted?"
If you know my hubby and me at all, you only need to spend 10 minutes with that kid to know he is most definitely our genetic offspring.
I know he knows this, too, so I was perplexed at his question.
"Of course you're not adopted, darling!" I said reassuringly. (Or maybe I said something like, "That's a dumb question." I really can't remember now.) "Why do you ask?"
He replied, "Because there are no pictures of me as a baby!"
In fact, that's not true. There are several dozen pictures of him as a baby. And as a toddler. And as a preschooler. And ... well, you get it. (Granted, not as many as there are of his older brother. Let's face it, the novelty wears off by the time kid #3 rolls around.)
Problem is, all of his pictures are in boxes. Along with all the other pictures taken in the past 11 years.
This is a travesty, I know.
I had the albums up-to-date in the summer of 1996. Then we moved, I got busy... baby came along, we moved again...
I bought scrapbooks and photo albums and fancy scissors and acid-free paper for making fun borders (this was before the scrapbooking craze went completely fanatical)... and, really, had very good intentions of getting it all brought up to date in the summer of 1998. And again in the summer of 2001. And again in this last year...
I have a wall in our storage room dedicated to the boxes upon boxes of pictures we have yet to put into a photo album. Thirteen (yep, count 'em --13) small U-Haul boxes in all, filled with photos and momentos from the past 11 years.
We had to dig through them the other day for a school project my teenage daughter was working on. She pulled out a picture of us taken with some other people about eight years ago, and asked who they were. I couldn't remember. I turned the print over in hopes I'd had the foresight to write their names on the back. No such luck. I'm sure that, at the time, I thought I'd be labeling it and putting it into a photo album soon. Silly me.
Now, however, my dilemma is that I can't even afford all the supplies I'd need to organize 11 years worth of photos into albums.
(And I've long since given up any hope of making one of those fancy scrapbook albums. Sheesh.)
Oh, and those 13 boxes are just the photos we've actually had developed and printed. In the past four years, we've gone completely digital, and I have hundreds -- nay, thousands -- of pictures on my computer. Pictures I'm going to print someday. When I have time.
2 comments:
Weird... I asked my mom and dad this same question when I was 10. Er... nine.
They never told me it was a dumb question, but it was. There were tons of pictures of me, ages zero to 10. Er... nine.
:)
I don't recall ever asking my parents that. Then again, I only recall little bits and pieces of my childhood (such as when a spider bit me between two of my fingers, or when I caught my thumb on fire - underneath my thumbnail - while opening a roll of caps, or walking along a road with my German shepherd, or the night I was baptized and my Grandfather sang "Amazing Grace" while I was back getting ready), so it's possible I did and just don't remember.
As far as pictures, though... I must admit, I am not good about taking pictures of the kids. One day I'll be sad because we don't have zillions and zillions of pictures of the kids at various stages. Then again, I may not remember to be sad when the time comes...
Post a Comment