For the love of Garret

Whenever I get a good shot of Garret I'm renewed in my confidence of portraiture.  'Cause getting a good picture of my boy is HARD.  I suppose when I do get one I could chalk it up to luck but I'd rather take the high road and say Dang, I'm awesome.

Now these shots are not his best pictures, but they are so him.  SO him.  Top: flailing hands and averted eyes.  Middle: fleeting, direct glances are full of life and intensity.  Bottom: If he don't care you got a camera, he don't care...

We had friends stop by this evening WHO TOTALLY GOT SUCKED INTO THE VP DEBATE AND WE SAT IN JITTERY SEMI-SILENCE WHILE BIDEN WAS A JERK AND RYAN DIDN'T FIGHT HARD ENOUGH AND WE'D MUTTER COMEBACKS AND JUMP AT THE MODERATOR WHO WAS RIDICULOUS BUT IN THE END SMART, CONSERVATISM WON WITH SUBSTANCE 'CAUSE RIGHT IS RIGHT.  ISN'T THAT RIGHT.  And during their visit Garret kept things interesting with his giggles and prances.  (Boys can prance.  If John Travolta can get away with it...)  I dressed that kid at least 4 times and each time he'd come back, nothing but his diaper on, laughing at his victory.  Our friends just waved off my apologies with a laugh and a shrug.  They even seemed charmed. 

Oh heavens I love down-to-earth people.

...But you know, my boy is easy to love.  Not easy to photograph, but easy to love.