Anything new in life is exciting for a guy, especially things that we can wash, change (the oil), show off to the babes (my wife), and generally garner attention from people around us. Well I gave up my race car years ago to woo my wife, actually she had nothing to do with it, race cars are expensive to have, but isn't it funny how similar cars and babies are? Piece of cake......
Before my son, Jojo, was born I told myself I wasn't going to be that weirdo dad that takes pictures every few seconds he is awake. I swore I would mentally cherish every moment that we had, taking an occasional picture when the cuteness was more than my meager mind can handle or remember. But as every new dad knows, that doesn't happen, instead something else does.
That something else is we become a picture taking Asian tourist at an October Fest in Berlin trying to capture the essence of the German tradition of brats, beer, and lederhosen.
I wanted "THAT" perfect picture, and of course to achieve that goal that would require 20 pictures of Jojo doing the same thing. Upon reviewing said pictures I found that maybe one of them wasn't worthy of keeping, so 19 pictures are now saved. Granted in this day and age we all have a digital camera on us or able to use our phones, but when my photo gallery on my phone went from a little over 100 pictures from YEARS of taking pictures to almost 700 in 12 weeks......I got a fever and cowbell isn't going to fix it.
However a picture of my infant son banging on a cowbell.....You see what I mean? I need help, professional help, especially in the areas of proper lighting and focus.
But I know that one day when his girlfriend comes over for the first time I will be able to easily pull out my computer and let her see a 2 hour long slideshow, to music I might add, of Jojo's first few months. If she is able to make it through that without asking when is it over, she is OK to date him.
The second date will be the poopy diaper pictures......THAT, my fellow dads, will decide whether she is eligible for marriage.
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