We sometimes joke, when looking through my family’s old photos, that my brother Chris was clearly the favorite kid. There are loads of pictures of him. I can see the same thing happening years from now with my own little family. The kids will be going through old albums and teasingly asking why there are so darn many baby pictures of Anders. They will shake their heads and insist I played favorites. I will, in turn, shake my head and equally insist that it only happened to be that Anders came along just as my interest and skill in photography was beginning to develop. Of course, then Anders will mischievously chime in with a “Believe that if it makes you feel better, siblings, but we all know the truth. I was the favorite”.
My defense shall have to rest in the fact that, while they may have fewer baby pictures, the sheer number of photos of each and every one of them shot up dramatically around this same time.
Still, I won’t deny that I can’t stop taking photographs of this little boy of mine. Here he is, just shy of five months. And with the added skill of yelling “AAHH!” as loudly as he likes during the quietest moments of most church meetings (with complete and total disregard for those who have come to reverently worship).