Why You Shouldn’t Show Me Pictures of Your Grandchild
Me: not especially.
Happy Photo Purveyor: but she’s just so precious.
Me: believe me, your voluminous and unremitting descriptions of her are all I really need.
Happy Photo Purveyor: you absolutely have to see them.
Me: I’m certain that’s not the case.
Happy Photo Purveyor: you’ll regret it if you don’t.
Me: I’m feeling the regret already.
Happy Photo Purveyor: let me get my phone out.
Me: so this is happening.
Fifty photos later.
Happy Photo Purveyor: if liked those, I’ve got hundreds more.
Me: great! Let me just remove this ice pick I’ve jammed into my eye.
Happy Photo Purveyor: her name is Liz; can you guess what that’s short for?
Me: I don’t know.
Happy Photo Purveyor: just guess.
Me: I don’t want to guess.
Happy Photo Purveyor: just guess–it’s obvious.
Me: It’s obvious? Is it short for Lizard.
Several moments of uncomfortable silence.
Not As Happy Photo Purveyor: why would her name be Lizard.
Me: she looks a bit like a lizard.
Even more uncomfortable silence.
Unhappy Photo Purveyor: my granddaughter looks nothing like a lizard.
Me: not all of her–just her face.
Still Unhappy Photo Purveyor: people say she takes after me!
Me: I wasn’t going to bring that up…but yes she does.
Angry Photo Purveyor: my granddaughter looks nothing like a lizard!
Me: maybe I just think that because of her tail.
Angrier Photo Purveyor: what makes you think my granddaughter has a tail?
Me: because most lizards have tails.
Apoplectic Photo Purveyor: I’m never showing you another photo again!
Apoplectic Photo Purveyor storming off in a huff.
Me: mission accomplished.
And that’s why you should never show me photos of your grandchild.