Browsing through iPhoto is especially meaningful when kids come along.
"Pumpkin, who's this?"
"Dada!"
"Very good! Now how about this one?"
"Hah bout Baba!"
"Yes! That's Grandpa!"
But the best part of picture perusing is the complete lack of any painful memory. God, in his timeless wisdom and mercy, just knew that we'd just curl up and suffocate ourselves if we could feel even one tenth the pain of childbirth. Or the vacation where we got on each other's nerves. Instead, this memory will self-destruct after one scrapbook. The remnant is a beautiful, staged memory of the past.
Here are the best uncomfortable-but-the-picture-prooves-otherwise memories:
Two weeks after the Hot Tamale was born. My female parts are radiating fire! And I'm sucking in my stomach like I'm going to swim the English Channel under water.
Five minutes before a torrential downpour and 60-degree weather. In West Texas. In May.
Whoops! That's actually a miracle--point not proven at all.
Only save the skinny, smiley pictures and voila! instant rosiness! Thank you, thank you, thank you for these gracious lobotomies!
No comments:
Post a Comment