If there’s anything on this earth that would rival our little boy’s love for his mummy and daddy it would have to be trains. Diesel, electric, steam – it doesn’t matter. So long as it has some wheels, an engine, and prefereably a few carriages in tow. Two years ago I would have said it was just a phase he was going through, and he would soon enough be into Superman, or Mr Incredible, or even Postman Pat. But no. If anything he’s just got curiouser and curiouser, and more passionate as the months have rolled into one another. It’s his sister that drags out what few cars we have here and spends the day driving them around the living room. Granted there’s usually a barbie or two sitting on top of them, but if she didn’t play with them they’d have been passed on long ago to someone that might actually get some use out of them.
As a treat, when I wander in to the newsagents every month to stock up on my photography magazines, Jaedon and I will head over to the hobbies section. He’ll stand there for a good long time (the more of a hurry I’m in, the longer the time) flicking through each of the publications, umming and aahing over which one is better and why. Eventually we’ll wander out with his magazine of choice hugged to his chest like a prize. As soon as he walks through our front door he’ll drop anything else he might be carrying, head straight to the couch, and read. He’ll pour over every page, making us look at anything he finds particularly interesting (such as this carriage having eight wheels) before he’ll let us on our way in peace. And then it will go to bed with him, supposedly to sit on his bedside cupboard – just so he knows it’s ok. But, inevitably, when we pop our heads in to kiss him goodnight it will be tucked up under his arm, right next to Tigger.
Tonight after dinner we sat together and read through yesterday’s purchase which, lucky for me, came with a free copy of the Biggest Ever Issue of the Hornby Magazine. So while I sat under strict supervision and instructions to keep reading, never mind that he kept interrupting me to share what he was looking at, I watched, and smiled, and snuck in a few opportunities to capture my boy and his bliss. And I felt grateful for his keen interest in and passion for the the things he loves. It’s one of the many, many qualities I adore about him, even when he forces me to sit and read Step by Step Instructions on Weathering a Water Tower.
.jpg "Photo a Day | Jaedon | Twenty Four")
.jpg "Untitled-1Photo a Day | Jaedon b | Twenty Four")
And in the other corner we have the equally passionate sister, Alicia-Rae. Not about one thing in particular, but anything and everything – so long as it’s pink. We’ve always found this highly amusing, as I’m not a pink girl myself. At all. I’m not even particularly girly. If I wasn’t there when she arrived, I’d wonder just where our daughter came from. Dresses (the frillier the better), shoes, handbags, food (that bit I get), fabric, jewellery, cars – if it’s pink it has her immediate attention. And most often quite shrillily (is that a word?) announced. In the most pink-infested girly voice you can imagine. And that was the voice I heard from the other end of the store this afternoon, when she spotted the perfect pair of fluffy pink moccasins. There was no way we were leaving that shop without them. Lucky for her I’m a pushover. Or maybe it’s because of her I’m a pushover – have you ever seen the puppy-dog eyes she puts on when she has her beautiful little heart set on something. Again – I have no idea where she gets that from.
.jpg "Photo a Day | Alicia-Rae| Twenty Four")
I had no choice to but to photograph her slippers tonight, with time rapidly running out. My previous attempts to photograph her throughout the day all ended dismally. I definately wasn’t being given the puppy-dog eyes in those instances. I may be a pushover, but my daughter’s certainly not. When she decides to stick to her guns, boy does she ever. It’s one of the many, many qualities I adore about her. Being confident in herself, and what she wants out of life. And not being swayed or tempted to compromise. Not even for chocolate. She definately doesn’t get that from me.
Narrelle x