My son, the pimp

So I’m getting ready to take a picture of my kids for our Christmas card. I have them all dressed up and arranged in front of the fireplace. But before I start, I say to my problem child, “Collin, this always takes forever because you do something goofy like make a face and ruin the best picture we get. And then we have to do it over and over again until we get another good one. Let’s get this over with. Please don’t do anything dumb.”

To which Collin responds with some Eddie Haskel like assurance that he would never do such a thing again. He’s older and wiser now, you see.
Except he was hiding a $20 in his hand. This was our first and only good picture of the day. I was ready to give him and his $20 bill away! Some kids. Yeesh.


And for all of you who are about to tell me how cute they are, just let me say that they have to be cute. Because they’re bad and they wouldn’t still be alive if they weren’t cute. God just sent them into the world with what they would need to survive 🙂

4 thoughts on “My son, the pimp

  1. I know this is late but…
    Your “problem child” is going to give you memories to last long into your whitehaired days when they are all off changing the world because that is what their Mama taught them to do!

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