Lauretta and Johnnie had seven children all in all. The children were all grown up and married and whatever now, with kids of their own. Their son, Dougal, and his wife, Alma, didn’t have much to go on though. They had four kids and little money left over at the end of each week.
Dougal and Alma’s twentieth wedding anniversary was coming up. They had never been able to afford getting a family portrait professionally taken. They would love that, before the kids so quickly grew up and flew the nest. Dougal’s parents gave them a voucher to have the photograph taken as an anniversary gift – provided of course they get a copy of their son and daughter-in-law’s family for themselves.
The photos were taken. The proofs arrived!
In every one, sixteen year old Marion was pouting because her mother, on leaving the house, had said “You’re not wearing that” and made her go back inside and get changed.
In every one, thirteen year old Ivan thought it funny to have shut one eye.
In every one, thirteen year old (she was Ivan’s twin) Mona scowled because her friends were all going to see the latest movie about something and she had to have a “stupid picture taken”.
In every one, nine year old Campbell looked sour because he was made to hold “a bloody book by the bloody photographer like he was a bloody nerd or something.” (“Don’t swear dear,” said his mother).
In every one, Dougal the Dad looked like he had something stuffed down the front of his trousers, which he hadn’t, and Alma thought it was a scream and said “What’s that?” and Dougal said “You should know by now”, although it was just the way the light fell and had nothing to do with what you might be thinking.
In every one, Alma looked stunning. Stunning! “Why am I not surprised?” said Dougal.
The kids hate the photo. It hangs, framed, on their grandparent’s dining room wall.