This week, on the day I don't work. I took Buddy to his usual Wednesday playgroup. A notice on the door said that there was going to be a "team" photographing for "research" on the role of women in economic decisions in the household.
There wasn't a team there, just one of the regular mums with her very nice Nikon. And I couldn't really see how taking photos of children playing is social research. Almost certainly what it really was, was marketing research. She's probably a part time employee of an ad agency and she's being paid boo-coo bucks to take shots of the tykes and what they're wearing... Great work if you can get it.
Buddy is a regular male model. He's a Zoolander in training. And when he saw her camera he started striking a pose. That kid seriously mugs up. He no longer had eyes for mommy, but was smiling coyly up at the woman whose camera cost 3 or 4 times what mine did.
I guess Buddy wasn't dressed cute enough (2nd or third hand pair of overalls, shirt from WalMart) - or maybe I wasn't (I don't even want to tell you what I was wearing) cause she didn't turn her lens on him. I wanted to tell the woman - "C'mon, that camera's digitial - just shoot a few frames of the kid. And if you can't do that, at least pretend to take a shot. He's only a baby, he'll be fooled." Instead she muttered something about him being a cute kid and moved on.
In the afternoon, I took Buddy out for his usual walk in the cemetery in his designer sweater, as you do. I propped him in front of sward of daffodils and began snapping. But apparently, the magic was gone. I couldn't get him to really raise a smile. Of course, maybe he thought I wanted him to go for the moody look. Or perhaps, I'd inadvertently set him in a pile of cremains. (I did look.)