First Day of Prison Treats

* Special Note- Contrary to my previous post, because hey, why not be contrary when you can- I am not going to backdate posts. If things seem wonky and out of order please try and understand that I have just been behind in things like linking pictures and such. I am trying to catch up without overwhelming the blogosphere with eighteen million posts in one day. Really, I have that many. Or maybe less, I'm not sure. Regardless- here we go.

As mentioned in my previous post about my son's first day of school- he has an uncanny knack for making faces in pictures that would lead state run social services to think we are doing something really wrong. I want to make it clear that I have no understanding of this phenomenon. I don't say "hey- make a face like the awesome-ness of right now is actually really terrible and the kitty you don't have just died." Followed by "Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnndddddd- SMILE!" Because that would explain the number of bizarre picture duos we have amassed.

So I will continue, in the interest of science and an effort to discover the underlying reason behind these happenings to periodically update you with pictures. Prison Face v. Free at Last Face pictures. Now there will not just be exploitative use of unflattering pictures of my otherwise adorable little guy but I will also be exemplifying my own dualities in the Good Mommy v. Bad Mommy world. Because really, is this a Good Mommy post or a Bad Mommy post?

This set is from the first day of school again. As a special treat for getting through the first day of school I took the itty-bitties for a spot of ice cream. In my family there is a genetic predisposition for loving ice cream as if it was made of, well, ice cream. It is passed down from my mother's side of the family and so far it seems to have taken root nicely in my children. So you would assume that after a great first day of school and swell surprise ice cream any 5 year old kid would be psyched.

Prison Face Ice Cream vs. Free at Last Ice Cream



Now here is apple picking a few weeks ago. Again- should be happy and fun for all (although you will likely soon read about the apple picking experience and how it went awry but that is before all that). This is at the start of the picking, just as we entered the orchard when the smell of fruit filled our noses and the sight of trees all around us was most welcoming. Or so you would think.

Fresh-picked Prison Pear vs. Fresh Picked Free at Last Pear



What is a gal to do? I'll keep going on taking photos in the name of memory and science and maybe one day I'll start a "Parents of Prison Face Photo Children" support group. Joiners?