Faking Family

You cannot move to Hawaii and then feature your family on a paisley sofa in matching tartan sweaters for the inevitable Christmas photo. Oceanic views, coconut trees and powdered sugar beaches are the predictable, expected landscape for such shoots. So, to them, we trooped.

Dramatic hysterics are part and parcel of this annual, torturous occasion. This year, we nearly escaped a "child Chernobyl" until we discovered Eowyn, moments before departure,  in the fetal position screaming, "I don't want to brush my teeth." Apparently, dental hygiene should be included in the military's advanced interrogation techniques, right after water boarding- And yes, we're for that too (just terrorists- not our children).

Arriving at Waialae Beach, we disembarked gingerly, as, of course, we were wearing nothing actually appropriate for the beach.  The photo shoot commenced after a "40 years in the dessert" like hike through the sand to locate a site unoccupied by picnickers.  Whereupon we began to pose in those iconic, unnatural positions popularized by every other holiday card produced by Shutterfly. Fabricated smiles. Forced hugs. Fake frolicking.

Jason insisted upon several "men only" pictures, enhanced, in his estimation, by spinning Kincaid around in the air, by his tiny toddler arms. I watched in horror as Caid began to cry and Jason dizzily began to stumble. . . At first, I thought it was some poorly contrived game, until...Jason dragged them both into the ocean.  Kincaid struggled to stand. Jason struggled to stand. . . only to fall AGAIN into the ocean. Jason laughing. Me laughing. Eowyn laughing. Caid sobbing.

Jason will not be asked to return for next year's shoot.