suicide-bird:

we-are-legion-for-we-are-taco:

They took the idea of parents being proud of their child and wanting to have lots of memories of him growing up and tried to twist it into something bad.

this is such bullshit.

i have a 2-year old. You bet your fucking arse I have taken a zillion pictures of her. I love her, she is a constant source of amazement and wonder and joy. She will never be this small ever again, she is full of new things and new words and new experiences right now and the rest of her family live in another fucking state, how the hell else are they meant to see them? Telepathy???

i loved seeing pics of myself and my siblings when we were little. Pictures of me and my sister, our chubby baby faces playing dress-ups, at the park, learning to paint, patting a kangaroo at a zoo, clomping around in our mum’s shoes, first time with our hair tied up. I can see shades of the me I am now in that little person. I can see the steps I took to get here.

I want that for my little one. I want the grown-up to have that connection to her past. I want her to have that security, the line between then and now. I want her to know in her bones that she is so so loved, and has always been so –so– loved. 

And do you know? SHE ENJOYS IT. She loves having her picture taken. She grins and poses, dances and shouts at the camera, pulls funny faces, laughs madly and falls over and kicks up her legs and has a total blast of a time, and then she demands to see it afterwards. She asks me to take pictures at the most random times – “pichure! Mummy, Pichure!”- eating dinner, cuddles with daddy, her favourite toy (”Pichure Bunny!”), her bowl of cut-up fruit, drawing chalks, getting into the car, whenever. She wants me to take them, and she wants to see them. I’ve printed some of the nice ones for our walls, and she points at them CONSTANTLY. She points out her friends, her parents, her grandparents, herself, in her new words. We give her even more new words to describe the links between us all – cousin, auntie, uncle, poppy, grandad, grandma. The only reason she knows her cousins at all IS BECAUSE OF SKYPE AND PHOTOS. She has met them in person twice in her whole life. But she knows their faces, and she loves them. 

I have only two pictures of my own mother as a little girl. She changed a lot as she grew: she looks very different as an adult. I have NONE of my dad as a child. If we used the photographic record as evidence, it might even appear that they sprang fully-formed out of nowhere, ready-made parents, the second my older sis was born.

I treasure those photos of my mum as a little girl. And do you know something else? Sometimes, when my child turns her head just right, or when she holds her chin a certain way – in those snaps, she looks like my mum. 

Something i never would have known without my photos. 

So, to the artist who made this glib, trite, woe-for-the-young piece of ‘social commentary’? I am sending your proctologist all my best wishes. 

They’re going to need all the luck in the world finding your fucking head.