The thing about young children is sometimes, as much as we love them and they are wonderful little learning sponges, cuddly, happy, and carefree; there are those moments in parenting where you’d like to lock them in a closet.  Or just have a gallon of wine readily at hand.  This is normal.  This is real life.  I love this family because at the root of all the good and bad, there are these two small little hearts that are actually really big.

When photographing children, you have to break down some walls quickly to make friends so they will play with you, or at least accept you a little bit.  Sometimes that playfulness gets a little out of control.  This day, like so many others, somebody pushed things a little too far and I got hit in the head with a rock.  Not a particularly small rock, either.  For me, not a big deal, it happens all the time on jobs.  For moms and dads . . . usually a mortifying, I-want-to-crawl-under-that-rock-and-hide, moment.

But what makes it all okay, like really okay, is what happens after.  We all make mistakes and that is part of what being a kid is about; learning from our mistakes.  So after the tears passed (his, not mine, as I did my best to not freak the kid out any further – – a.k.a. adulting), the good part showed.  That little voice, all sheepish and remorseful, says, “I didn’t mean for that to hit you, will you still be my friend?”  “Yes, buddy, of course, but you can’t do that anymore.” “Ok, good, I won’t.  I promise.”

Really, how could I be mad as that little blue-eyed mug?!?  Oh, and the “I want to give my sister this flower, just right, like this, oh, let’s do it again,” part of the afternoon was rather priceless, too.