outtakes

Sifting through scads of digital photos I've taken of the bambini in the past month or so (remember my strategy?), I am searching for those images that are in focus, well-lit, not too cluttered in terms of what's in the background, and interesting.  Those images that meet these criteria are added to a "favorites" folder that serves as my screen saver -- a veritable slide show of the past three or so years (the lifespan of my current computer) -- and organized into albums to share with our loved ones.

Notice I didn't include among my "favorites" criteria that bambini be looking at the camera.  I don't often ask them to do that.  Instead I try to document their doings, expressions, and interactions as they unfold in real time.   In my experience this makes for better photos -- at least the ones I end up taking. 

There are times I try to get all four bambini together for a photo to mark a certain milestone or holiday.  I don't think I've ever gotten a photograph of all four of them looking at the camera that is better than those that result from the logical progression of a "photo shoot" with four young children.  With these characters, there are plenty of goofy expressions and silliness shining through the awkwardness of being posed.   Among the candid images are usually several "outtakes", some of which may or may not end up as the favored photo for the intended purpose (such as a Christmas -- or Easter, in our case -- card).

Sometimes the best pictures aren't the posed ones.  That's not my area of expertise.  They may not be of portrait studio caliber, but their authenticity trumps the fancy factor.  The relationships among the siblings and we who love them are evident.  The accomplishments and milestones are documented as they happen, and the expressions captured for posterity are genuine.  These photos tell our story. 

music to my ears

Sometimes the lads get to laughing at the same time and I can't help but think of Ralphie and Randy from the movie A Christmas Story -- they sound so much like them!  (This is one of those movies that I can recite from beginning to end, having watched it nearly every year on Thanksgiving with our dear friends of Bonnie Box fame.)

In fact, when we moved into our current house, I found one of them in a kitchen cabinet next to the wall oven just the right size for a little person and just about offered the lad a glass of milk (as a disclaimer: no one was in trouble -- they were just goofing around).

The lass has a surprisingly full-bodied laugh for such a wee little girl.  I love it.

I try to not to inflict too much tickling in an effort to draw forth the music to my ears that is their laughter, keeping in mind how intensely I dislike being tickled myself, but it's difficult to practice such self-restraint when the reward is so delightful.  Smooches often work well to this end, as do butterfly kisses -- and do not have the same breath-stealing dimension tickling does.  When the lads ask to be tickled, though, I'm happy to oblige until they say "enough!"

But then again, sometimes the bambini can make each other laugh in ways and to such a degree that no one else can (whether or not the hilarious-to-them subject matter is entirely appropriate -- I speak in reference to these two wily preschool-aged boys of mine).  

The sound of my loved ones' laughter -- not just my bambini's but my beloved's, parents', siblings', and friends' -- is truly the sweetest music to my ears.