Doggone Digital Camera Batteries

September 19, 2011 @ 6:28 pm | Filed under: ,

Always dead during the cutest moments. Like last night, when I passed by the girls’ bedroom and saw Huck cuddled up next to Rilla on her bed. She was reading him Jane Yolen’s How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight?β€”such a fun picture book. I so wanted to capture the moment for posterity. Couldn’t see Rilla’s face at all: just bare knees bent, supporting the book. Huck: smushed in close, absorbed, still in his grubby orange t-shirt and funny plaid golf shorts from a busy afternoon of pouring dirt onto small cars in the garden. The small voice piping, haltingly but with confidence. Her reading has sprinted forward a mile in the past month or two. She reads books now. And he’s whooshed forward too; he listens to stories, really listens. I keep trying to hit the pause button, but the remote control must be out of batteries too.

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5 Reponses | Comments Feed
  1. Penny says:

    When you can write in pictures like you do Lissa, you don’t need cameras. Meltingly sweet moment you’ve captured here.

  2. Ellie says:

    **sigh** what. Beautiful moment. Penny’s right, you didn’t need the camera for this one. And, maybe it’s better in words, some moments are.

  3. Ellie says:

    ??? Typos, always there when you don’t need ’em. What a beautiful moment, that should read!

  4. maria says:

    Those are moments you literally whisper “I’m making a memory.” then press the record button in your mind. I hate the blasted batteries going down in digital cameras…..oh the agony of it! I’ve so been there so many, too many times.

    Love those moments like your described. Pure joy and bliss. πŸ™‚

  5. tanita says:

    Every time my camera falls to respond when I see a moment with my nephews, I’m convinced that God or the universe wants me to just be still and absorb. And so I try to push aside my SERIOUS ANGST that I can’t capture the second except with my eyes, and ears, and brain…

    It’s hard. Breathe in, and push imaginary button with Maria. I love that: “I am making a memory.”