When my alarm went off I hit snooze a few too many times and it was a mad rush to get out the door and get Henry to school. Henry was dressed in a garage sale sweatshirt, purchased because I thought it looked vintage and it had "Minnesota" written across the chest. This particular morning, when paired with messy hair, crusty boogers and a bloody chin (playground accident from the night before), it just looked unfortunate. Poor little Henry. Who cares though, right? He's just going to get dirty anyway.
It's not like it was school picture day or anything.
Oh, ha, ha, but it was... I had totally spaced it. It was a little boy, in the parking garage of Henry's school, with slicked hair and a sweater vest, that tipped me off. I looked down at crusty little Henry and said "shit" under my breath. "Shit", yelled Henry and it echoed through the garage.
I was already late for class, so I dropped him off and called Nick begging him to go to Baby Gap to pick up a new shirt. Wardrobe! Make-up! Nick totally came through and together, with Henry's teachers, cleaned him up good.
Those pictures are going to be soooo cute.
Or, I imagine that they would have been cute if Henry had not been so afraid of the lights and the photographer and if someone had been able to peel him off of his teacher's leg, long enough to pose for the damn picture.
Maybe next year.
