It's Labour day weekend, and we've decided to go on a family hike. This doesn't happen very often these days, since Kevin is older and now has things to do and places to go. John and I usually end up walking by ourselves, reminicing about the times when Kevin, young and full of energy, was easily tricked into running ahead and back. He never did figure out that we encouraged him to do this in order to wear him out, but after a few runs he'd be sufficiently tired to fall asleep when we got back to the car.
On this hike, I brought my Blackberry Z10 and decided I was going to take photos. Although somehow in the snapping of pictures, I had hit a button that is more useful for taking photos of myself rather than the usual point and shoot.
"Kev! Ack! What do I do?!" I squealed, holding the phone out to him. He takes it from me calmly, smiles, presses a few buttons, and hands it back. Gratefully, I accept it, until I realize the possibilities of taking my own photos-namely, I can use them as avatars for twitter.
"Wait! How do you get it back to that?" I run after him and thrust the phone back in his hands. Amused, he presses the buttons and watches as I begin taking photo after photo. He walks away but again, I'm stuck. Honestly, I'm not that great with smart phones. Again, I run after him.
"Wait! How do I do this? Show me."
I make him stand while I take photos of us together, changing the light, the way we are standing, waving my arms in weird directions because he's so much taller and my arms are obviously not long enough to get us in the frame. He obliges for a few minutes, before wryly commenting,
"Mom. You are not going to turn into one of those girls who posts all kinds of bathroom selfies on Facebook, are you?" He looks at me with slight horror, I'm sure imagining his middle aged mother doing duck face portraits in the bathroom mirror.
"Maybe." I snap a few more.
"Put it away," he commands before drawing himself up to full height in front of me and taking the phone. "Because if you do, I'll just have to unfriend you on Facebook."
"Please?" I jump after the phone, trying to get it back. "Just a photo of us? Just because I'm your Mom and I love you, and I have few photos?"
He holds it out of reach, but eventually relents and hands it back before giving me a stern warning.
"Say no to the selfie, Mom. Or I may need to hack your account."