I bought MrM a photoshoot for father's day which needed to be used by Saturday. Of course, we completely forgot about it until the last minute and then he couldn't make it. It sounded a bit like I'd arranged it on purpose but I honestly didn't.
The upshot was that the McBaby and I went - but hey, we can give him the photos next father's day, can't we?
I thought the shoot was in the centre of Oxford, so we left our house at lunchtime to give us time to park, find the place, cover up the horrendous red blemish on my nose from too much nose-blowing, go to Wagamama and to generally adopt an aura of serenity for the photo so we can pretend it exists in our lives.
However, it was not in the centre of Oxford, rather it was in a shopping centre somewhere outside the city centre meaning we had hours and hours to kill with just a Wilkinsons and a 99p store to entertain us, oh and a car backing into another car in the multi-storey as we arrived.
We managed to while away three hours but I did have to resort to putting £1 in a kids' ride on toy that saw off 30 seconds for us.
Then it was time for the photoshoot where I noticed that the McBaby had a greenish stain on his t-shirt and chocolate all over his jeans. Might as well include a touch of realism in the shots, I guess.
We had an hour of studio time, so after removing our shoes and socks, we posed for a couple of pictures together where I was unaware of anything other than my sore, bright red nose.
Time to get some pictures of the McBaby on his own. He absolutely relished being the focus of the shots and shouted "cheese" gleefully while strutting around the studio like a seasoned model, offering pouting shots, paparazzi shots and lots of laughter.
The photographer then offered us the use of the props in the room, starting with a leather sofa that the McBaby thought was for pushing across the studio rather than sitting on. When we finally coaxed him onto it, he insisted on standing on it, precariously close to the edge.
We put that back and got out a washing basket. Many's the time I've tried to get the McBaby to pose in a washing basket in the style of Anne Geddes, but he just won't sit in a basket. Or indeed anywhere. And he wouldn't do it for the photographer either, instead preferring to drag a vintage suitcase across the floor. "Hurray" I thought, instead of a basket, we'll get him to pose in a suitcase.
And it all looked promising as he got in. And then out. And then in. And then out.
Repeat 35 times.
Remember those computer programmes you used to write at school:
10 Get into suitcase
20 Get out of suitcase
30 Go to 10
We now have to go back to select some pictures so that should be interesting. Only this time, I hope the McBaby doesn't disappear out of the shop and run across the shopping centre only for me to have to chase him before I've put my shoes and socks on.