Beach Balls are Round

I blithely had assumed that by now I'd have that birthing announcement post and we could all merrily descend into some weeks of watching an infant grow from tiny Magoo into genuine personhood. But. Alas.

 

This photo is only half a day old, and clearly I stuffed something down my shirt. Or there is not yet a baby to behold. But it allowed me enough time to put a camera into my son's hands, perch him somewhere in our garden where we could be at eye-level with one another, and lovingly harangue coach him in the fine technique of taking a billion photos at a time in hopes that some of them will be in focus. He takes his work very seriously.





This is my illustrative method of indicating approximately how much of the photographer's subject should actually make it into the shot, at least some of the time...though the deviations are of course far more interesting:





For the curious: my sweater was made in China (sigh. I know. I didn't buy it, I swear), and the cowl loveliness was gifted to me by the incomparable Star, following a bout whereby I hinted largely that I would be an appreciative recipient by trying to steal it...it's Plucky, guys, I've told you before that I am weak. And apparently my friends are defenseless, or my unsubtle charms just that winning, whatever the reason I am very lucky to have them around, knitting for me.

Back to photos. It was with renewed vigor that Anatole took to being on the other side of the camera, inspired no doubt by my excellent example.







Also: I love our garden. It has this moss that makes oriental rugs appear chintzy by contrast.



Thanks, friends, I have another post up my sleeve if this baby STILL doesn't show up soon...otherwise, expect miniature scrunched up features in the very near future.