The Photograph

Sears used to have a portrait studio in the Carlingwood Mall in the 1980s. We had two little boys in the Scouting Movement. The nine year old was a Cub and his five year old brother was a Beaver. I dressed them in their uniforms for the photograph, thinking it would be cute to have a souvenir of this stage in their lives and picturing a formal pose and angelic smiles to share with family. This did not quite work out as planned, and I realized later that it is best not to have preconceived expectations when dealing with little boys.

We went to the mall with promises of a treat in the restaurant after the pictures were taken. The implication was that good behaviour would be rewarded.

We found the studio, I filled out all the forms and the photographer welcomed the boys and set them up for the shoot. She was very young and she clearly liked children. She asked them about their uniforms and their troops, and put them at their ease.

She put them so much at their ease that they developed the giggles. They started poking each other and the laughter escalated. She clearly was enjoying this and she made little effort to calm them down, participating in the fun while snapping some shots.

My vision of the formal picture of two angelic little boys disintegrated and my cries for calm went unheeded. Eventually she did capture a couple of slightly more sober moments, probably brought on by the look of frustration on my face.

When it was over, we left with the promise that the proofs would be sent to us and I took the boys out into the main store, where I scolded them for their silly behaviour. We did not go for the promised treat, much to their disappointment.

A week or so later, the proofs arrived. There were one or two that you might have classified as formal shots, but the one that sits on my shelf shows two little boys in their Scout uniforms, holding hands and laughing full out into the camera. I regret to this day the withholding of the treat.