I feel compelled, driven, forced to take pictures of other people's children.
But I always feel that I must do it surreptitiously, because these strangers who are the parents of the aforementioned children might think I'm some kind of stalker or something.
So I focus on something way out in the ocean, and then when I think the parents might not notice, I zoom in on the kids and snap their pictures.
I don't want grown-ups in the pictures messing things up, so it gets a little dicey sometimes to get a good snapshot of the kid alone. Because what kind of parent takes a kid to the beach and then lets go of his/her hand for even a split second?
All this is to excuse whatever flaws you find in the pictures below. Yeah, that's it ..... otherwise these would have been professional-looking journalistic statements of my prowess as a photographer.
Although I am also pretty good at eavesdropping and know the real names of some of these munchkins, I am going to change their names just in case someone happens across this blog (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha) who might know one of them.
Hello, I'm Tyne. No, I don't know why my parents names me something that is part of a fork. My parents will put me in gymnastics and pay for years of piano lessons, but I will drop out of college with only 3 credits remaining and become a jewelry engraver. I will spend my evenings walking people's dogs and watering their plants while they are on vacation. I will be the one at family reunions who always brings macaroni and cheese and causes family arguments without meaning to.
My name is Lisette. I will graduate from the drama department at USC with the assurances of all my teachers that I will go on to do great things. I will move to New York to get my big break, and I will become a tour guide to support myself while I wait for casting calls. Or whatever you call them. I will never learn how the subway system works in NYC, and I will develop a phobia that renders me incapable of using elevators or escalators.
I'm Penelope. I will graduate with a degree in Criminal Justice, and my parents will beam as they anticipate my acceptance to law school. Imagine their surprise when I decide instead to become a journalist embedded with the 82nd Airborne and parachute into Afghanistan, where the war on terror/search for Osama Bin Laden will still be going on. I will collect Barbie dolls from all over the world and send them home to my parents, who will let the foster children they have taken into their home play with them and cut their hair.
My name is Isabella. I am going to become a teacher of special-needs children. I will marry a policeman, but we will be unable to have children of our own. We will instead live on a small farm and raise alpacas.
I'm Rhoda. I will start out my career as a costume designer, creating elaborate pieces for shows in Las Vegas, London, and Paris. I will achieve fame and fortune, but life in the fast lane will get to be too much. The constant recognition, the inability to go anywhere without being hounded by paparrazzi, the pressure of being expected to constantly produce new and exciting designs, will wear me down. I will realize that I can achieve anonymity by becoming a professional mascot. I will never understand the infield fly rule, nor will I be able to discuss the pros and cons of the spread offense. And don't even get me started on why the last two minutes of a basketball game can go on for-freakin-ever. I will write and illustrate a children's book and go broke trying to self-publish it.
My name is Merrill. My parents will put me in tee ball and peewee football as soon as I can hold my head up straight while wearing a helmet. I will be the starting quarterback for my high school team, but I will suck at baseball because I refuse to sacrifice. Ever. During college I will take a ballet class because it is the only course open on Mondays and Wednesdays at 2:00 PM, and I will discover my true calling. I will go on to dance with a major company, although NOT as a principal dancer, but it will cause ..... problems ..... with me and my dad. I will marry a principal dancer in a different company, and we will spend the rest of our lives trying to coordinate baby-sitters and just trying to see each other once in a while.
I am Cameron. I will enter the military upon graduating from high school, where I will earn a pilot's license. I will qualify to fly commercial airliners, but I will get a job shuttling high-profile golf players to their tournaments. My mother will be disappointed that she cannot jetset off to Dubai courtesy of her pilot son. In my spare time I will paint graffiti on the sides of railcars.
My name is Astrid. Not Asteroid, Astrid. I will graduate from high school with decent grades, but my family will be unable to pay for college. I will hide my pain and embarrassment by making jokes, and I will be small potatoes on the stand-up comic circuit. I will never make an appearance on David Letterman, and I will be booed out of Branson, Missouri when I make a joke about Dolly Parton. My sister will be a professional tennis player and will refuse to admit that she knows me.